His Little Girl Is All Grown Up
by innerurge1
Summary: House rethinks his relationship with Cameron. This is a character study of House and focuses on how a relationship with Cameron as a partner might affect his struggles with depression and addiction. This is an AU story that happens in parallel to canon events of season 6. If you haven't watched season 6, you will get spoiled.
1. A Random Non-Date

**Pairing**

 _House/Cameron_

 _ **Spoiler Warnings**_

 _If you haven't seen up to and through season 6, then proceed at your own risk, as this will be heavy in spoilers. There is some dealing with a season 8 plot point as well, but it is related to a single episode. So, if you really want to be safe, you probably shouldn't be reading this if you haven't seen all of House and care about being spoiled._

 _ **Preface**_

 _Things you need to know about this alternate universe:_

 _This is my exploration of what could have happened had Cameron not married Chase. This is based on canon right up until the last ep. of season 5. In my universe Cameron leaves Chase at the altar. But other than that, Greg House's storyline is more or less the same._

 _I am moving forward with the idea that Foreman still does exactly the same thing when he takes over the team, only Cameron and Chase, having not gotten married, are just more or less forced to stuff their personal feeling in their back pockets and deal with working together. House still comes back when he does. Chase still kills Dibala, but the subsequent fall out with Cameron never happens because there is no marriage to fall apart. She has no reason to know what happened, or to notice Chase being off, since the two of them have a very strained working relationship._

 _House wants Cameron around, but she is on the fence about leaving the E.R.. She enjoys the cases and is happy to have House back trying to be a better House but Chase needing to be on the team is the biggest factor in her indecision on whether to stay on House's team or go back to the E.R._

 _House still cons Thirteen and Taub back._

 _This story starts in the spring of 2010, around the time of "Private Lives" though I don't really dive into canon plot lines in detail until "Lockdown." I use and alter quite a lot of the dialog from the canon episodes, and obviously all the credit for that stuff goes to the actual writers of the show. I'm just playing with their toys and hoping they are too bored to sue, because disclaiming doesn't make it any more legal to use it, but at least attributing it makes it sorta less bad. However, I'm not adding footnotes, lol. So deal with the fact that my brain eloped with canon and had a baby named Hameron._

 _This story is written as a character study of House, in second person. There are many story/character details that just float around, because we only know what House knows._

 _ **Thank you**_

 _I posted this the first time 'round as a work in progress, so I made a note with a credit to my beta on almost every chapter. Now that it is finished, to make it easier to read, I am going to be doing another round of edits, removing most the author's notes from the chapters (except where footnotes or warnings are needed) and moving the general notes to the preface and epilogue._

 _I want to give a big thanks up front to my beta atavares! She has been awesome helping me find typos and spinning ideas. I've been fortunate to make a friend while writing this. She gets full credit for all Portuguese translations. It's super cool to have a polyglot as a beta when your main character is one too! Love you babe!_

 _And thanks to all of you for reading and rereading and dropping off reviews. :)_

 _On to the story!_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: A Random Non-Date**

It starts out innocently enough.

You need some air, a night out, so you find yourself walking around Nassau Street around eight o'clock on a Thursday night. It had been a warm spring day, but with the evening, the temperature drops so you wear your riding jacket. The street is lined with restaurants and bars; people wander in and out of doors and stroll the streets. Given the time and day of the week, the businesses are not full but quite active.

As you walk, you people-watch through windows, building likely scenarios about those you see: a young college aged couple, out for a second or third date, getting just drunk enough to take the jitters out of a potential first fuck; a single man getting shot down while buying a drink for a girl 15 years his junior that you're sure he has mistaken for a prostitute. People meeting old friends or new friends, single people drowning their sorrows, all giving off clues that color in a likely backstory in your head as you survey each establishment.

Looking in the next window you find a face you recognize. It's owner sits alone in a corner nook in a lounge chair, next to a small end table, flanked by an empty matching lounge chair. Her legs are folded under her, as she reads from a folder, and nurses a beer. You observe her for a moment through the window, surmise she is studying a case file, likely from the stack of files that had been on your desk earlier that day. Tucked under the table is a computer briefcase which, more than likely, has a number of other case files stuffed into it alongside her Macbook.

You consider walking past, but can't resist the temptation of getting a few late night jabs in with someone you're beginning to think of as a real friend. The thought is amusing, considering the awkward start with her. The crush; the forced, and failed, dating attempt; her constant need for approval; your constant need to push her—both away from you and forward in her career. You're glad she seems to be over you. She's grown up and become your colleague. She can banter with you head to head, toe to toe. She definitely isn't an idiot.

If you're honest with yourself, it felt bad rejecting her. She was, still is, gorgeous. Despite insisting otherwise, you had no issues with the age gap. You simply couldn't get past thinking of her as a student. You had your heart in other places. In many ways, you can empathise with her, if empathy was something you did. You've always had a knack for loving women who couldn't love you back, or at least love you back enough to deal with you being a jackass. So, in some strange way, you know exactly how you made her feel with your rejection. Only hoped you nipped it early enough to save her a much greater hurt, though you will never admit it to anyone.

Now, as you look at Cameron sitting there, you find you're proud of the way she has come into her own—a stronger-willed version of that meek teddybear you hired—the woman you knew she could become, if the right pressures were applied. Breaking from reverie, you walk into the bar. You order a scotch neat, collect it, pay the bartender, walk to her and plop yourself in the empty chair adjacent hers.

She doesn't look up as you sit. You're not sure if she knows it's you or thinks it's some schmuck getting ready to drop a cheesy line. You decide, _why not just be both?_

"I'm fighting the urge to make you the happiest woman on earth tonight."

The faintest signs of a grin being stifled, is her reaction. Looking up, she banters "I keep waiting to take you up on that, but you're always all promises and no action." She's long since become comfortable with your flirting game, despite your early rejection of her advances. She gets this is your way of being friends with women. You're not trying to be cruel, you just don't have another way to interact with women who aren't your mother.

"Anything interesting in there?" you inquire, motioning to the folder in her hand with your drink, before it finds your mouth and you take more than a sip.

"Not really anything worthy of your lordship's intellect," she answers with playful sarcasm "but I'm pretty sure I've got diagnoses for most of them at this point, so I suppose some good has come of them wandering across your desk." She closes the file and stuffs it back into her bag, turns a bit in the chair to look at you, and takes what appears to be the last swig of her beer.

You catch the attention of a waiter, grab the bottle from her and hold it up to indicate he should bring another, then hold up your own drink "and another scotch neat," before downing the rest and turning back to Cameron.

"Do you always send back diagnoses for my rejects?" _That's surprising. Never really considered what she does with the cases she decides not to give me._ She used to like to answer your letters in your name, and sometimes those answers included suggested courses of action. Your reputation only benefited from it, so you let her do it, even though she signed your name with the girliest handwriting.

"It's a habit I've picked up since being on semi-permanent loan to your team. I get tired of knowing the answer and not helping the people who need it. I got used to a higher volume of fixing broken people in the E.R. and you know my weakness for fixing broken people."

Another playful stab at your history. Sometimes you're not sure what to make of it. You don't think she holds it against you and you don't think she's still has a 'crush,' for lack of a better term, on you, but sometimes you wonder if the two of you should just have sex and get it over with. You're fairly certain she still finds you attractive, so it's no wonder that fucking her does occasionally cross your mind because you can't deny having a physical attraction to her. The idea is dismissed each time; there's still some hope of hooking up with Cuddy. You think you love her. Even though she has rejected you at this point, you suspect she loves you too.

Can't really blame her, she's a mother and she wants father/husband material in a boyfriend. Neither are words anyone who _knows_ you would ever associate _with_ you.

No one, not even Stacy herself, knew that you were only weeks away from asking her to marry you; even picked out a ring and planned on stealing one of her other rings to take it in for sizing. You wondered what it might be like to have a child with her. Wondered if you should even entertain the idea after your own childhood experience. On many levels you were happy with Stacy, at least until the damned infarction.

Not everyone can point to one moment in their lives that changes everything, but you can. Goddamn leg. Goddamn misplaced trust. Goddamn love.

You had wanted to forgive her, did eventually, but not before it was too late.

It dawns on you that you're staring off. You snap yourself back with a bit of snark "just be careful to not make it look like it's me that is doing the caring. My reputation as a heartless bastard is very important to me."

The drinks come. The waiter asks if you want to start a tab. You say "Yes", then tell Cameron "Give the man your card." She rolls her eyes, but complies.

"You don't have to worry about looking soft. I stopped signing your name on these things a long time ago. I don't feel the need to give you any credit for _my_ work and I no longer feel like I need _your_ validation to do my work," she states matter of factly before downing half her beer in a single drink.

Putting on a mock sad face, you pretend to shed a tear. "My little girl is all grown up and turned into a woman." She rolls her eyes again, downs the rest of her beer and nods to the waiter for another. "Damn woman, slow down. I am not sure your boss wants you working tomorrow with a hangover."

"Then he should reconsider how his actions drive me to drink."

You down your second drink and ask for another as the waiter comes back with Cameron's beer. _Wonder what she is up to?_ You've not said anything that should or would upset her. Then again, she didn't seem to be interested in getting drunk before you sat down.

"Cameron, is there something wrong?" you ask. Your caring side is showing more since your time at the psychiatric hospital. You've tried to open up a bit more to people who could be your friends with just a little effort from you. You tried to get Chase to open up to you after the 'incident' with the dictator. It didn't really work, but it did seem to make Chase feel like he wanted back on your team.

It was hard for him and Cameron. Though they had broken it off, and seemed to be amenable at work, working on the same team again was a little too much, too soon.

You understand that, but pushed both come back and get over it. You still have a selfish streak. Cameron has yet to pull the trigger on your job offer officially. However, it's been a few months and she hasn't returned to the E.R. full time. At first, she said it was just until you found someone to fill the spot, but the new-old team came back, and she never walked away.

Cuddy let it be, most likely out of guilt for how things have played out for you lately. She has always maintained that Cameron's a good influence on you. So she fudges the numbers and keeps chalking it up as a loan of resources.

Cameron smiles at the show of concern. "I was just joking. I came here to deflate from the day, and well, the files were distracting, but then you showed up and now, I figure, why not get a little buzz and enjoy the hang? I haven't really just hung out with a anyone away from work in a while."

"Since you broke it off with Chase?" you ask, still seeking answers to the puzzle, though you are less demanding and prodding than you would have been a year ago.

"Yeah." She goes back to taking small drinks. Your new drink comes and you match pace, sipping now as well.

"What went wrong with you two? You were all set to marry when I flew over the cuckoo's nest, then I come back and hear you left him at the altar." You take another drink. "I never pictured you the jilting kind."

"Well, me either," she pauses, staring at the label of her beer. "I just couldn't go through with it... It never really felt right," taking a drink she pauses again to collect her thoughts, then looks back down at the bottle rather than your eyes.

"I woke up the morning of the wedding and it was suddenly clear. I was using Robert to prove to myself that I was capable of having a normal relationship." She takes another drink and starts pulling at the label.

"You were right about me; about us. Well, mostly right, least with the big picture stuff. You always knew our relationship was one sided. I _thought_ I loved him, and, in a way, I guess I did. But, at the end of the day, it all turned out to be a rebound from my first marriage. I was being selfish. Robert deserves better.

"It all just… spiraled. All I wanted from him in the beginning was sex. Sex to get over wanting to have sex with you, to get over wanting _more_ than just sex from you." She makes the briefest eye contact, but the old feelings bubbling to the surface don't allow her to maintain it. Her eyes drop back to the label, fingers picking at it some more, peeling it away slowly, in an attempt to remove it without tearing it.

"It worked for a while... Until I kissed you. I was back to being confused, because you kissed back. Then he wanted more, and I knew I didn't. And then the team exploded and I _couldn't_ be the one left alone with you, so I quit and ran back to Robert, and convinced myself that being loved and being _in love_ could be the same thing. But in the end, all I did was help myself get over a tragic marriage and schoolgirl crush by hurting one of my best friends more than I ever thought I was capable of hurting another person."

She's back to chugging, but you don't even blink at it, silenced by her honesty, selfishly placing puzzle pieces; taking score of where you were right and wrong in your evaluations of her the last few years.

"The irony is everyone that knew I had fallen for you years ago, and knew I had blackmailed you on that stupid date, warned me you'd be the one to do all of those things to me.

"Well… everyone but Wilson." She pauses for a moment, in consideration.

"But it turns out that the misanthropic bastard is much kinder in matters of the heart than sweet little _Allison_. You could've played the part, used me for sex or as some sort of emotional crutch, but _you_ had the good grace to be honest with me and tell me you didn't have those kinds of feelings for me. You were a bit of a cock-sucker with the delivery, but you were a better human being than I've been."

The weight of the conversation is too much, so you adjust in the only way you know how "Well, don't give me too much credit. I did hire you as lobby art and I did wanna get in your pants. I just didn't wanna have to date you to do it. That's were you made your Team Asshole rookie mistake. Dating and casual sex can't be mixed, otherwise you have a relationship. It doesn't prevent hurt, but it certainly reduces it." You drink and wonder how seriously she's taking your comments.

It seems to have worked, her mood lightens and she jokes back feistily "I guess that is the big advantage to hookers. Unfortunately, finding a straight male hooker isn't quite so easy and, aside from that one experiment in college, I've never _really_ been into girls." It's an easy jab, given your reputation for hiring professionals to take care of your baser needs.

With a nod and a wink you confirm, "You're right about hookers, they are simple, low maintenance and effective." Swigging back your drink, then wiping your mouth dramatically, you continue. "Now, please tell me, in detail, about your experiment in college." You waggle your eyebrows at her jokingly, and do in fact hope she doesn't just roll her eyes at you this time.

 _Damn, the thought of her with another woman…_

She blushes a bit, or maybe it's just the alcohol setting in. She motions to the waiter again and you both order another round. Eyes meet again, staring at each other for an extended moment. You're starting to feel a little buzz. You've curbed your drinking since your breakdown and the antidepressants lower tolerance, so the three quick drinks are starting to work. Cameron on the other hand, is at least one drink ahead, and given her weight and light drinking history, she is well on her way to drunk. You're pretty sure, she is also well on her way to taking you to bed in her mind.

You should take this opportunity to cancel your drinks and just walk away. But you don't. You're still a man, and she is still beautiful, and you still want to fuck her, even if you don't intend on acting on it.

She smiles, as if to read your mind. "I think I'd rather you tell me what you're imagining I did."

You swallow hard and your cock twitches.

"Alright." You say, daring yourself to continue with this dangerous game.

"I imagine that the other girl looks a whole lot like Cuddy when she was in college. She has a very nice rack and an even nicer tongue that she is using to, very slowly, lick each of your much smaller, but still gorgeous and perky, tits to full attention."

The waiter drops off your drinks, raising an eyebrow at your conversation, but you're sure he gets an earful every night. You take another drink, as does she, never breaking eye contact. Her pupils are dilated, her breathing is deeper. She's aroused, but the mention of Cuddy has the desired effect of bringing her back to reality.

"Why am I not surprised you'd bring Cuddy in on it?" She pauses fiddling again with the label. "You know, I find it to be strangely comforting that she does to you what you used to do to me."

You want to deny it for a moment, but for some reason—maybe the alcohol, maybe your new attitude on life, or maybe your new respect for Cameron, or the combination thereof—you decide to let yourself be caught. "That obvious, huh?"

"Yeah. It has been for a while. But the difference is, I think she loves you back, but knows you two'd be like a time bomb in a relationship. She can't take that risk, because being a mom and being in control of her job are more important to her."

She looks back to her drink, continuing fiddling with the label. The moment of sexual tension is dulled by the truth of her words.

"I'm sorry. I know it sucks," she adds as she looks back to your eyes.

You nod, "Yeah. Pretty much." _Damn, was she always this observant?_ You don't think so, but she sure as hell sees right through you now.

"I should get going," Cameron says as she stands. She staggers a bit, and starts giggling. "I guess I'm drunker than I realized. Standing up just made all of it rush to my head."

You finish off your drink and stand, somewhat drunk, but functioning, because alcoholics don't lose all their tolerance in a few months of better behavior, antidepressants or no. You motion to the waiter to cash you out, steady Cameron, and help her gather her things. She signs the receipt and stuffs her card back into her bag. You offer your left arm to steady her as you walk to the door.

While exiting, you remember that she doesn't live in walking distance from here. You should call her a cab, but decide maybe it would be nice to walk it off for a bit and turn towards Wilson's condo. "There's no way you're driving home. Let's walk this off for a few minutes. We can call you a cab from Wilson's place."

The walk is pleasant. Cameron holds your arm and leans into you for balance. As you amble, she lays her head against your shoulder. Your arm has a mind of its own, snaking around her shoulders when she shivers from her lack of a coat. It's a simple, friendly gesture, and it feels good to have her there.

After a ten minute stroll, you find yourself in front of your home away from home. A few residents look on you oddly as they pass, most likely because they assume you and Wilson are partners, because duh, two over-30-year-old, single, male roommates screams gay. That and the fact that your little game with the woman in 3-B ended with Wilson proposing to you publicly.

Of course, you told Nora the truth, but doubt she bothered mentioning it to the neighbors. Seeing you there with Cameron in your arms, looking very comfortable as if coming home from a date, is probably the last thing they expected.

 _A date_ , you think and smile. Your one date with Cameron had been a disaster. But in your lightly buzzed mind you realize that the two non-dates you've had with her, which you are now considering tonight to be one of, were fun. When the two of you don't try, you are actually really good together.

"Come on upstairs. We'll call from up there so you don't have to wait in the cold."

"Okay," she says as she snuggles into you. The walk's done more to pump the alcohol into her system than to sober her up. You lead her onto the elevator, exit on your floor, walk to your door, and untangle her from your arm to unlock the door. She seems to sigh at the loss of the contact, before straightening up a bit and smoothing out her hair.

You push the door open, and see Wilson lounging in front of the TV, beer in hand. "I thought I was going to have to send out the search party." He says, without looking over at you.

"Hey Wilson," Cameron calls out and waves, as he looks up. Her sobriety level not lost on him.

"Oh boy," he says under his breath as he looks from her to you with a 'What the fuck?' look. Cameron begins to walk forward toward the couch, still somewhat unsteady, she manages to make it the few steps and plops down beside Wilson. "Don't worry Wilson, House isn't taking advantage of me. We just ran into each other at a bar, and now I'm too drunk to drive, so I'm here for a cab."

He looks back to you as you hang your jacket. "You brought her home to call a cab? Why not just call from the bar?"

You don't want to admit to wanting to spend more time with Cameron. "Well, I had to do something to keep our neighbors from thinking we're gay, and I figured bringing home a hot babe was a good way to start."

"If you guys are secretly gay, can I watch? There is a betting pool at work about which of you is the top and which is the bottom, but without a witness how can we ever settle the bet?" Cameron delivers the line with a serious face that shocks you and makes you feel some sort of fatherly pride, however weird that is. Wilson for his part, looks completely mortified, which has you and Cameron laughing at his expense.

"Oh, yeah, very funny you two. You're a great role model, House. Cameron was just an innocent when you hired her, and now look at her."

"Oh, my little girl has long ago graduated with honors from The School of House. She's a grown up woman now, with all the wiles that come with." You say, jokingly, but you know you mean it. She is all grown up, and tonight is making you think of her more and more as woman and an equal.

"Hey Cameron, the night is still young, wanna hang out for a while? Watch some TV, snack, drink some water to help prevent you being a hungover pain in the ass to your bastard of a boss tomorrow?" You find yourself not wanting to send her home. You'd like to take her to bed. You can't get past it. Sure, you'll probably regret it, but you want her. _Well, maybe not when she's this drunk._ She's definitely not at the point of passing out and not remembering, but still not in a frame of mind to make important decisions.

If you are honest with yourself, you probably shouldn't be making decisions about sex with someone you give a shit about right now either. But you feel safe with Wilson around, so you hope she takes you up on your offer to hang.

"Sure. Sounds fun. You don't really have a ton of furniture, can we all squeeze in on this couch thing together?" She, smacks the arm of the couch, and looks down at it with a bit of a raised nose.

"Well, you can sit in my lap or on the floor. Take your pick, because it's Wilson's place, and so he gets dibs, and I am a cripple so I get dibs, and seeing that we are the ones in love and having hot gay-sex on that couch it only seems right. Though, _you_ don't have an ass as wide as Cuddy's, so there is a chance we all three could still fit." Wilson continues to send you looks full of daggers.

"You know, if _Wilson_ could just deal with picking out his _own_ furniture, we wouldn't be having this problem." You dig into the old wound at Wilson's expense, secretly hoping she ends up in your lap, though you doubt one of you is suddenly gonna make good on all the innuendos. If she does though, you'll have to thank Wilson later for being a pussy about furnishing his home.

You limp over from the kitchen with a bowl of chips, and a couple of bottles of water, leaving your cane leaning against the counter. Cameron stands when you get to the seat, you hand Wilson the chips, her one of the waters and you flop down beside your friend.

Cameron looks in your eyes playfully, at your lap, and back to your eyes. "So how does this work with your leg?"

 _Fuck_. You gage her seriousness. You aren't sure. Taking her hand, you pull her down to your good side; she sits on your thigh for a moment still challenging your eyes. After a moment of eye-sex, she winks and you and slides down between your legs to the floor facing you. She pauses, just long enough for you to think about her mouth on your cock, before turning around with a smirk to watch TV, her back to the couch, her head resting against your good leg. She opens her water and takes a big drink, and asks Wilson to pass the chips.

You watch TV for a few minutes. Cameron stands up and asks where your bathroom is. You jerk a thumb back toward your room, and tell her through your bedroom.

She's gone for a long time. You start to wonder, afraid to go look for her, because she's in a mood and you've half a mind she's found your bed. Wilson, is _not_ oblivious. "You've gotten yourself in deep this time, House. At some point, you're going to have to go back there and deal with whatever this is." He says with a warning. "And what is this by the way? I thought you decided you weren't into her? And I thought she was over you."

"Yeah. Not sure what is happening" You say honestly. "but I've decided I like it."

With that, you hoist yourself up and limp back to your room fully expecting to find Cameron sprawled out naked on your bed doing some very naughty things to herself. You open your door slowly, turn on the light and are not disappointed.

"House!" She is calling your name as she…

"House, wake up." You feel your arm shake, you look up confused as you blink and your eyes adjust. Cameron is standing over you, gently shaking your arm; you're still on the couch. Apparently, you fell asleep during the movie.

"My cab will be here soon. You should go to bed. Wilson just headed back himself." She says as she offers you a hand to help you stand.

"How long was I asleep?" You ask, not even realizing you were tired. _Damn antidepressants._ They do make you more sleepy at night. Not normally a bad thing, but tonight you would have liked to've not passed out on Cameron.

"Not sure. At least an hour."

"Damn, sorry about that. Some great host." You rub the back of your neck as she starts moving toward the door. Limping along behind her, you remember how chilly the night had turned and grab your riding jacket from it's hook by the door. "Take this. It's cold and I don't need you calling in sick tomorrow."

"House, I'm not going to catch pneumonia darting from your door to the cab, and from the cab to my door." She says, holding her hand up in protest.

You walk into her personal space and drape it across her shoulders "I won't take no for an answer. You can return it tomorrow," and open the door. She walks out, turns back to you as she slides her arms into the jacket properly and swings her computer bag back over her shoulder.

You catch her sniffing the jacket and know she smells you on it; your scent and pheromones. She looks much more sober now, though still a little buzzed. Her cheeks flush; she knows you caught her and walks forward raising up to place a kiss on your check. You turn into her and brush lips. She pulls back surprised, more flushed.

"I'd better get going. Don't want them to get tired of waiting and strand me here."

"No, we wouldn't want that." You answer seriously, your voice lower, with a hint regret.

"Thanks for deciding to walk over when you saw me. I had fun. I haven't had fun in a while." You nod, she walks to the elevator and hits the button.

Back inside, you close the door. As you turn to walk back to your room, you find Wilson leaning against the kitchen counter with a questioning look. "I hope you know what you're getting into."

"I've no idea, but I kinda like it." You say as you walk past the kitchen to your room to get ready for bed.


	2. Now that you think about it

**Chapter 2: Now That You Think About It**

You arrive at work, the last person in, per your usual routine. You may be recovering, but you're still you and you don't do on time for work. Your jacket hangs from the coat rack. The team, save Cameron, is seated at the table, perusing case files, reading articles, or doing crosswords. Somehow Cameron always seems to know your timing and is at the coffee pot pouring some into your cup as you enter the conference room. She doctors it with sugar, and hands it to you, brushing your fingers as she does it. God, you've missed that. It's a thing you let her do early on, one little bit of slightly inappropriate contact from employee to boss.

"Can we talk in your office for a second?" She asks you, as she makes the handoff.

You nod, and she leads the way with you hobbling behind with your coffee in hand. Dropping your backpack next to your desk and placing the coffee down, you plop in your chair. She sits in the chair across from you slouching comfortably.

"I've decided it's time for me to get back to my real job. I've let it go for too long and it's not fair to the ER department for me to string them along any longer."

"Okay." You say flatly. There's no anger, perhaps a little disappointment, but this is no real surprise.

"Last night was fun," she says to you, meeting your eyes in the shockingly unguarded way she does now — now that she's been out from under you, made her own path. "It was really nice to have someone to talk to. It helped me come to grips with the fact that I can't continue to work on your team — beside Chase and under you. I love the cases, but it is a step back for me and I want a career; one that I've made and defined for myself. I also know that Chase needs this, and he's never going to be okay working on this team with me. It's a lot of baggage for both of us, but especially him."

"Have you talked to Cuddy?" You ask, again guarding yourself against your normal need to inject something hurtful or sarcastic.

"No. I wanted to let you know first," she answers.

You're prepared for this. Last night too many old emotions rose to the surface for her to stay.

She stands and walks to the door. As she starts to open it, she turns halfway and looks back at you. "I'd like to be your friend House. It's been really good watching you try to be happy and I'm happy for you." With that, she opens the door the rest of the way and walks out into the hall turning toward the elevators.

* * *

You leave work early because it is the 2nd Friday of the month and on the 2nd and 4th Fridays of every month, you drive to Mayfield to see Dr. Nolan. You still can't believe you're seeing a shrink, but you aren't keen on another psychotic break. It's surprisingly good to have someone other than Wilson to talk to — someone neutral to the hospital and its personal dynamics.

You tell him all about Cameron. You hadn't really talked about her before. You tell him the whole story, the crush, your early consideration of the idea, her demand for a date in exchange for returning to work — the brutal response to her honest attempt at wanting to know you. Tell him about her slow evolution away from a lovesick girl-woman striving to champion your methods, to someone trying desperately to hate you for them. And finally, how she left you and began evolving into a confident and impressive doctor.

You lay out her past marriage, her near-marriage, your theories about both. You tell him about the sexual undercurrent that has always been between you. You confess that you are proud of her and that you wish she didn't have to waste her mind on the ER, and that your interactions have been evolving towards a friendship, and away from a mentorship.

You tell him she wants to be your friend.

"What do you want from her?" He asks.

You don't answer him because you are still trying to figure that out yourself.

On the drive home, you consider how easy it was to just be with her last night. Sort of like it is with Wilson. Weaving around traffic, you think about how good Amber was for Wilson. You hated her for it, but couldn't deny what was right in front of you. He was better for having a female version of you.

You hate yourself some more for her death but push past it because it's the only way to stay sane.

The logical conclusion — Cameron is more like Wilson than any other female you know. She approaches problems more like him, she likes monster trucks, she was often times put in the role of being the conscience of the team, even though you pushed her to not have one. She pushed you back.

 _Shit. What if it's that simple?_ What if you've been an idiot pushing her away? You're still not sure you love her, but you do like her, despite your lies all of those years ago. _Definitely, want to have sex with her._ Might be able to love her if you'll allow yourself to even consider it. With her no longer on your team, and no longer in a relationship, you've lost all of your reasons to dismiss the idea.

The memory that your subconscious tried to kill Chase at his bachelor party pops into your mind. Your left brain has always maintained you don't want Cameron, but what if it was wrong. What if on some level that you have refused to explore with any serious thought, you do want Cameron?

On your date, you told her that you aren't what she wants, you are what she needs. You never even thought about reversing that on yourself. You're selfish — operating in wants, often ignoring needs. Wants are more fun than needs.

You remember the time you quoted Jager to Cuddy, 'You can't always get what you want.' Damn straight, and damn annoying. Then she reminded you of the next line, which you tend to ignore 'But if you try sometimes, you might get what you need.'

What if the same is true for you? What if Cameron isn't what you want, but is what you _need_? You don't want to be broken any longer, would it be so bad to give her the chance to help fix you?

Thoughts of being with her creep in on your drive home. On a hunch, you drive back to Nassau Street and park your bike near the bar you found her in the night before. As you approach, you can see her from the window, seated in the same corner, sipping a martini of some sort. She is on her MacBook this time, typing away.

Entering, you walk straight to her, skipping the bar this time in favor of flagging down a waiter. You switch to beer tonight. You don't want to get drunk this time.

"Surfing porn? I hear this place has excellent WiFi."

She looks up at you and purses her lips then in a sultry whisper asks "How'd you guess? I get a real rush from watching porn in public places; wondering if anyone can tell that I'm aroused."

You raise an eyebrow. "Well, I know your affinity for having sex at work, in places you can get walked in on by your boss."

"I was hoping to make you jealous." She quips, seemingly unfazed by the reminder of the time you walked in on her and Chase.

"Jealous, no. But that doesn't mean it didn't make me think about the fact you would have let me do that to you. And that thinking about it may have inspired me to have an intimate moment with one of my socks later that night."

It's her turn to raise the eyebrow. She takes her drink and finishes it, takes out the cherry from the bottom of the glass and sucks it from the stem. She's being purposefully erotic. The waiter drops off your beer and asks Cameron if this is going on her tab. She starts chewing up the cherry and looks up at him all traces of exotic undertones removed. "Yeah, toss him on my tab. We're modern that way."

She looks back at you. You're still staring. Swallowing hard you finally speak your mind. "I'd like to try us." Locking gazes with her, you hope to gauge her response to your proposal. "I'd like to be more than your friend, Cameron. I'm tired of being alone, and I'm tired of wanting things I can't have. I don't know if I'm in love with you, or if I can fall in love you, but I do like you. You know I've always liked you. I just couldn't work with you, teach you, and be your boss while also being your friend, or your lover, or even your fuck buddy. I don't work that way. The sex would have gotten in the way. And, I really do believe that you just needed to fix me. That wasn't something I was ready to handle before. But none of those things are in the way now."

You take a drink and wait for her to speak. She's thinking now. You see the gears moving while downing the rest of your beer. Finally, you can no longer take the silence. "Say something. You're rarely speechless and it's rarely good when you are."

She looks at you softly, tilting her head slightly to one side. "House, you know that I like you and I'm attracted to you, but I'm not sure I can do _this_ again."

You nod in understanding, knowing you have no right to ask this of her, after the ass you've always been. But, having formulated the idea, there's no going back. You're not wired that way. "Look, I know it isn't fair, but I keep thinking about having sex with you, which isn't anything new, except recently I think about having more than just sex with you. At some point, we're going to cross the line and then avoid each other for a month because we didn't talk about it first."

 _I can't believe the words 'talk about it' just came out of my mouth. I sound like Wilson._

You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you're trying to change things. "A year ago, I would have avoided talking. I would have baited you, played pranks on you and analyzed every reaction for some sign that you still want a relationship with me. I'm trying not to live like that now. It's not easy for me." Now you're the one tearing at a label. "Not to mention, I've learned I should avoid fucking my friends casually. It always ends badly for all parties involved."

Cameron motions for the waiter and asks to pay out — still, not talking to you, but not showing any signs of freaking out. He returns and she pays out, then packs her things away. Standing, she looks down at you as she slings her computer bag over her shoulder. "I need some time to process this. You've obviously given it thought, and I need to do the same because you're right, there's no taking it back once we have sex and if I stay here tonight and try to talk through this with you, that's exactly what's going to happen. I need to make sure I'm prepared to handle it if and when it does happen."

"Okay." You say softly and stand. She leans up to kiss you on the cheek again and this time you let her hit her mark for fear of a real kiss sending you both down the rabbit hole. "I'll walk you to your car."


	3. Okay

**Chapter 3: Okay**

A few weeks pass. You see Cameron nearly every day. She is more or less completely normal around you, save she's no longer making the subtle touches others would not notice as anything other than incidental contact. It's her way of maintaining a clear mind, you deduce.

For your part, you've backed off on the innuendos. Not completely, of course, because that would be noticeably odd behavior for you. But your more cutting comments are held at bay.

Then as luck would have it, Cameron calls you to her office for a consult. You don't normally do consults, but you figure if she is calling it will likely turn into an interesting case. No sooner do you walk into her office and grab the file with your usual snark, do lights start flashing, and a code 7 lockdown alert is being announced over the intercom. Moments later, security is more or less locking the two of you in her office.

Cameron questions the officer and is told there's been a kidnapping, and unless you have a patient coding you have to stay put. No one leaves, neither will new patients will be coming in.

"Well, at least I'm locked away with the best barista in the building." You joke with her, and she rolls her eyes and wanders to over to her machine to make a fresh pot.

Even as senior attending in the E.R., her office is not spacious as yours, or Cuddy's. It's perhaps just smaller than Wilsons, but not nearly so nice. It is, like the E.R., much colder and utilitarian. It's not an office for seeing patients. It's an office for doing paperwork. The floors are the same tile as the rest of the E.R., the walls the same color and the lighting fluorescent.

Another stark difference in your office and hers was the omission of windows. Your office is one big window. Hers has none at all. You have your suspicions it was converted from a storage room. With the door closed, the room is completely private.

She does have a couch and a desk similar to the one she had when working for you. Very few personal effects decorated it. You assume this is related to the recent break with Chase as you recall the only personal pictures she'd ever bothered displaying at work were of the two of them. There were some recent medical journals, and stacks of case files littering the whole of the desk surface, with a clear area in the middle with room to write or use her laptop.

You sit on her couch and watch her make the coffee. You wish she didn't have to wear scrubs, so you can better admire her ass. You begin to wonder just how long the two of you will be locked away together. You figure she is wondering the same thing.

She finishes the coffee and walks over to the couch with two mugs in tow and hands one to you before she sits beside you, sideways, folding one leg over the couch seat so she can face you. She puts her elbow on the back of the couch seat and leans her head on her hand as she sips her coffee and studies you.

The way she is looking at you causes you to raise an eyebrow her way. You turn to mirror her, and say "What?"

"I guess now's as good a time as any for us to finish our talk. It seems we're going to be here for a while." She says, almost too calmly. Like she'd had it planned.

"I know you are not the innocent young girl I hired six years ago, but I never had you pegged as the kind who would orchestrate a kidnapping just to get me locked up in a room alone with you." You tease, now figuring she didn't call you down here for a consult.

"Well, go big or go home, I always say." She smiles at you and continues to sip on her coffee.

"You like big then? Because I can give you big in your home and then you can go both." You deliver your sexual innuendo with your usual flair.

"I don't doubt you can." She says in her quiet and sexy way, with plenty of eye sex on the side. God, she makes you hot with those kinds of looks.

"I've thought about us a lot. In fact, it is nearly all I can think about." She says, as she breaks eye contact and stares with a more serious look toward some far off point on the floor. "It scares the hell out of me. It took me a long time to resolve my feelings for you before and I've just come to terms with another one-sided relationship. I thought Chase would be the healthy and logical consolation prize. I thought I deserved to be with someone who loved me as much as I wanted to love you."

You are glad she isn't looking at you now. Your heart is sinking fast, as you prepare yourself for the inevitable.

"My brain is shouting at me, 'You know the symptoms, Allison! You've been infected yourself.' I can't help but think I am a substitute for what you want. You want your boss, and now you are settling for the coworker who will love you, and hope it's enough for you to learn to love back."

She pauses for a minute and then looks at you again. "You know, it's really kind of funny; if we weren't both atheists I'd think God is playing a cosmic joke on us."

You snort at this and take another drink of your coffee. Damn, why does her coffee have to be so good? But then it occurs to you you've avoided one major error, made by Cameron in her very accurately compared relationship. "Yeah, but I haven't fucked things up by fucking you under the pretense of a casual affair." You lay it out, in your way. Not harshly, by your standards, just calling it as you see it.

"I can't argue with your logic there." She answers, continuing to sip her coffee and gathering her thoughts.

You sit in silence for a few more minutes. Stealing glances, then staring away as you both sip your drinks. "Okay." She says simply. Then nothing. You wait, thinking she'll continue, but when she doesn't you simply repeat it back "Okay."

She stands and takes your coffee, then places both mugs on her desk. She walks back past you to her door then and turns the lock. She turns around and looks at you then walks back to sit beside you again but as she starts to sit you grab her and pull her towards you indicating she should straddle your lap. She complies and as she lowers herself to sit on you, she leans forward and kisses you.

It's a soft kiss. Much like the only one you've shared with her. You deepen it, your tongue slipping forward to her lips, requesting entrance, which she grants and meets your tongue with her own. Her hands move up your arms to your face, where she strokes your beard. You smile because she did this before and you begin to wonder if she has a thing for beards.

You, on the other hand, have a thing for breasts, which is why your hands travel to grab the hem of the long sleeve tee she wears under her scrubs. You lift it over her head, breaking the kiss for a moment as you remove both tops in one motion.

You look at her body. It's as beautiful as you imagined it. She is toned from regular workouts, her muscles are well defined but still completely feminine. Her stature is so slight, it would be easy to mistake her for being weak or frail when fully clothed. You imagine she'll be able to do some amazing things to you with an athletic build like that.

You reach behind her back and unclasp her bra with expert hands then slide it down and toss it to the side. God, you love boobs; perfect and perky.

You take the left into your mouth, eliciting a moan from Cameron. The sound goes straight to Little Greg's head. She feels your erection grow under her and grinds slowly against it. It's your turn to moan. She finds your mouth with hers again and kisses you roughly. It is a needy kiss, not sweet like before. She begins grabbing at the buttons of your blue button-down, quickly followed by your tee.

"Oh god." One or both of you mutter, you aren't sure which, as your naked torsos touch for the first time. Your brain is being deprived of its normal blood flow. You're bucking against her now through your jeans. You rub your cheek across her neck, and down her body, kissing and sucking and teasing as you go. You shift her to the side and lay her down on the empty couch seat beside you and in the same motion, you pull the string tie on her scrubs to loosen the waist, grab her pants with panties and yank them down. Her legs are now across your lap and as her pants are maneuvered to her ankles you pull off her sneakers and socks finally ridding her of the last of her clothing.

Your work to undress her complete, you let your eyes roam back up her legs, and take in the sight of her fully naked before you. She's breathing hard, her eyes are full of arousal. You open her legs and begin kissing your way up to her pussy. You can smell her arousal. You want to taste it, but take your time getting there, using your beard to tease and tickle her inner thighs before taking your hands to pull open her labia.

She's moaning, entirely wet, clit throbbing.

As a doctor you know everything there is to know about the female reproductive organs. You can look on them with complete clinical detachment as you do your work. On some level, you are always amazed at how you can compartmentalize it and yet get this turned on by the female form during sex. You've always maintained being a doctor has made you a superior lover. You love a puzzle and every woman is a mystery to be solved when it comes to making them come. You get off on the idea of them getting off on you, and right now you want nothing more than for Cameron to get off on your face.

For her part, she seems to agree with you, and as your tongue makes first contact she moans lowly and strokes your head while using the other to pull on one of her nipples. You get the feeling she wishes you still had hair long enough for her to grab onto. "Mmmm" you purr as you nip at her labia, before sticking your tongue inside her and fucking her with it slowly. You exit as you lick straight up the center of her folds to land finally on her still throbbing clit. You lick over it to complete your motion, and you hear her stifle a scream, and notice she is biting her lip, with her eyes pressed shut.

You smile knowing what you are doing to her. Feeling the pause in your attention, she opens her eyes to look down at you wildly and then smiles. You look her in the eyes as you take her clit in your mouth and suck it slowly. Her head throws back. You hum again, which causes her to start fucking your mouth with her clit, her hand, still on your head, pushes your face closer into her. Damn, it's a turn on.

You push a finger inside of her and feel around for the g-spot and wonder whether she gets off on penetration at all and if so, more or less than with clitoral stimulation. Her low moan of approval when you find your mark gives you hope of one day fucking her to orgasm as well as licking her to one.

She moves her hand to her mouth to help stifle another scream as she spills over the edge. You feel her pussy contract around your finger as you pull out. You sit up and watch her as she slowly comes back down and finally looks up at you. As she does, you lick your finger clean. You get the look you hoped from her.

You untangle yourself from her legs and start unbuckling your belt as she moves to straddle you again. Your pants and boxer briefs are pushed to your knees just as she swings a leg over you. Eyes lock for a moment before she kisses you and sucks her juices from your chin making your cock throb.

She reaches between you and grabs your dick. "You weren't lying about it being big." She says as she strokes you gently, using your precum as lubrication. "I know you once told me that if we had sex we'd use a condom, and I have some, but I'm on the pill, and unless you really do have an STD, I want to feel only you inside me." For some reason you can't talk, so you just nod in agreement.

She lifts herself and positions you at her entrance, making sure to keep eye contact with you, she lowers herself slowly onto you, taking your full length. She sits with you inside her for a moment, letting her body adjust, then starts riding you leisurely.

God, she is beautiful like this. She fucks you, never breaking eye contact until your head tosses back in your own orgasm. As you do, you reach down and stroke her clit, and a moment after your release, she is coming again on your cock.

She collapses forward and presses against you, both your bodies damp and satisfied.

You hug her to you and bury your face in the curve of her neck kissing her. You make note of how your scents have mingled, the smell of sex permeating the room. You kiss up her jawline until you find her lips again and begin kissing her slowly, reverently, appreciatively. You wish you could stay like this, but your slowing shrinking manhood reminds you that you need to detangle and clean up. She must be thinking the same thing because she begins to pull away from your kiss and with a sigh whispers "We should get cleaned up."

You nod, and she lifts up off of you slowly, allowing your ejaculate to drop from her to your stomach. Once on her feet, she looks down at you. You imagine you look thoroughly fucked with your pants pulled down around your hips, come sliding down your abdomen, into your pubic hair, your dick half hard and your body sweaty. She smiles one of her beautiful smiles.

She begins looking around and finds some sterile clothes in a kit and begins to clean herself, then pulls out a few more and walks over to you, kneeling before you still naked, and starts cleaning you. As you watch, you can't help but think this act was perhaps even more intimate than the sex part. She finishes, rises and tosses the used rags into the biohazard waste bin.

You pull up your pants and start getting redressed. She tosses your t-shirt at you as she begins to sort the pile of clothes in the floor and begins putting her bra back on. Then she tosses her panties at you. You catch them before they hit you in the face and examine them, a simple black thong. Not much too them, but you doubted this was her normal choice for work wear and you smile again thinking about her obvious plan to 'talk' to you today. You stuff them in your front right pocket as you smile at her.

She pulls up her scrub pants over her naked ass and you feel the warmth build in your lower belly again. "Damn." You say.

She walks over to you and kisses you. "I thought you'd like something to think about later."

"You've always been overly considerate."

She raises an eyebrow at you as she pulls away and picks up her shirts and starts detangling them to get redressed. You reach down and pick up your dress shirt and are thankful you don't ever iron your work shirts so it lying crumpled on the floor gives no indication of your work-inappropriate activities.

Both of you finish dressing. Cameron walks back over to the door, and slowly turns the lock back to the unlock position, then opens it and asks the guards in the hallway if they had made any progress. Finding out there was no new news, she closes the door again and returns to the couch to sit beside you. She leans against you and you put your arm around her and pull her into your side and kiss the top of her head and begin running your fingers lightly up and down her arm.

She snuggles into you, putting her hand on your chest and pulling her feet up on the couch.

"I'd like to keep this between us for a few weeks, just until we see where this goes. And I should be the one to tell Chase if this works." She tells you calmly and you assume she has planned this conversation as well.

"Okay." You say and kiss her head again.

She pushes herself up from you and looks you in the eyes. "I mean it. Don't pull a House on me. No hints, no snide remarks, no trying to figure out what Chase's reaction will be. I can tell you now, he will be hurt and feel betrayed. He'll assume I left him over you. He'll wonder if we were fucking while I was with him. He'll get angry at you; hell, he might even hit you again."

"I won't tell anyone, but it will be sexual harassment as usual, so if your school-girl blushes give us away, that's on you." She rolls her eyes at you. "What about Wilson?" You ask her. You know you'll have a hell of a time keeping it from him, but you also don't want to experience the wrath of Cameron the girlfriend on day two of a relationship either.

"Wilson is different. I know you tell him everything. But he can't come talk to me about this at work. So tell him to set up a dinner date with me if he wants to tell me to not break your heart again."

"Again? When did Wilson tell you not to break my heart the first time?" you question.

"Before our infamous date. It seemed rather sweet at the time."

"Interesting. All he gave me was some horrible advice on small talk, a handful of condoms, and a wink." You say, thinking back to that night. Wilson had done nothing but encourage a relationship with Cameron then. You were actually surprised. Well, Wilson never bored you, and little things like this reminded you of why he was your only real friend.

"I wish you'd have just skipped to the condoms. It might have been a better icebreaker and maybe it would have dirtied your teddy-bear image of me just enough to make things interesting."

"The thought crossed my mind." You reach out and tuck a lock of hair which refuses to stay in her loose ponytail behind her ear. "I'd rather not rehash this not working before. You can trust the panties burning a hole in my pocket right now have dirtied my image of you going forward. You know me well enough to know I don't look back, if I misdiagnose and mistreat, I rethink and try again. I know I can be wrong, but if I decide something, as far as I am concerned in that moment it is right or I wouldn't decide to do it. I'd be lying if I said I don't have regrets, but dwelling on them doesn't do anyone a damn bit of good."

"Your right. And honestly, I don't regret the way things worked out. I think I'm a better doctor for it and I think I am more emotionally ready to deal with you now. I imagine that before I would have been a bit like Icarus, flying too close to the sun." She leans forward and kisses you again, then stands, picks up your mugs from her desk and heads back to the coffee pot to refill them.

"So did you really have a case you needed my consult on, or was it all a ploy to get me naked and rob me of my innocence?" You feel like you've shared enough for one day. Work would be a welcome distraction to allow you time to process everything. She hands you your new coffee and you take a sip, pleased at the sudden thought of waking up to her coffee.

"Actually I do, believe it or not." She hands the file from earlier back to you, and drinks as you peruse the details within.

* * *

"I'm having sex with Cameron." You say the next morning, as you flop yourself into the seat across from Wilson's desk. Wilson looks up at you incredulously. You would have told him at home, but he was in bed by the time you came home and he was out the door by the time you woke up, so you are bending Cameron's no relationship talk at the hospital rule because you are going to explode if you don't tell Wilson soon.

"Are you serious? That whole thing a few weeks ago, that went somewhere? Are you dating? Does Chase know?"

"Slow down Wilson, jeez! Yes, yes and no. And you are the only other person who does know and I am only telling you because I can't very well fuck her brains out in the next bedroom without your noticing. We're keeping it between us for a few weeks to see if it sticks."

"This is amazing! I mean, Cameron, and you, after all these years. Why now House? What's changed to cause this sudden interest in a girl you completely ignored the advances of for years?"

"I dunno. I'm different, she's different. It's not like we stopped wanting to have sex with each other. I guess she doesn't look at me like some sort of kicked puppy she needs to mend and adopt anymore. She also doesn't take my shit anymore and is getting rather good at witty comebacks I might add. I can't take all of the credit, of course, but I can't help but have a bit of pride in her blossoming into a grown-up doctor with convictions." You end sarcastically, looking to the ceiling with exaggerated pride.

"Ugg, House, that just seems incestuous," Wilson says with a look of real disgust on his face.

"She only calls me daddy when I spank her." You retort, loving the wide open door Wilson left for you. "Speaking of spankings, she asked me to tell you that if you want to lecture her on not breaking my heart, you need to make a dinner date. There is to be no talking of 'us' in the hospital until after we come out, beyond my little chat with you, of course."

"She told you about that?"

"Yep. Nice of you to 'protect' me from all of the hot babes." You roll your eyes, but deep down you know he's right about how deep you fall.

"Look, the two of you are adults. You both should know what you're getting yourselves into at this point. Neither of you is innocent and you both have deep seeded relationship issues. I always thought Cameron could be good for you years ago. She's as stubborn as you and she knows all too well what an ass you are. Maybe you've both changed enough for it to work. Now that she's not so head over heels, she'll be able to come out on top more often, which she'll need to do to survive in a relationship with you."

"Oh, she definitely comes while on top." You say as your mind drifts to the look on her face as she road you in her office. Then later that night in her bed.

"Jesus, House! I do NOT need to know."


	4. Interesting Positions

**Chapter 4: Interesting Positions**

You got in late last night. You'd told Wilson you were going to New York and were planning on spending the night there. You changed your plans last minute to come back and spend the night with Cameron, but she got called into work just as you arrived, so you ended up back at the condo.

Per your normal routine, after you wake up you lie in bed for awhile and think.

It's been a week and your experiment with Cameron is going well. The sex was amazing.

So far everyone at work seems oblivious. You wonder if anyone notices your improved mood, or if they just attribute it to your continuing rehab efforts. Then again, even in a good mood, you're an ass and damn proud of it.

Cameron's work schedule was very different from yours. E.R. works 10 and 12-hour shifts — four days on three days off, with one of the three being an on-call day. She was currently on a swing shift cycle, which everyone in the ER was required to do at some point, but at least with her seniority level she only had to do it a few months out of the year. It made it more of a challenge to find time but you're both very motivated and creative people, so you find ways to steal away a few hours here and there.

You have no idea what the hell she sees in the job, but she seems to be happy enough with it. At least she finds you a juicy case or two a month. She knows what you like.

A statement that is becoming true in your sex life as well.

Before your infarction you had been adventurous. You tried to get Stacy and the few somewhat steady girlfriends before her to do all kinds of challenging and exotic positions and techniques. For Stacy's part she was game, but she wasn't nearly in the physical shape that Cameron is in.

You'd figured that it might take a few weeks before you had more than vanilla sex, not that you've had that many relationships to compare to, but that seems the norm. For her part, she'd just assumed you being a sex addict isn't an act and you're willing to try whatever. You are happy to prove her right.

Cameron's willing to try just about any position you come up with so far. She's super creative in finding ways to do things your leg shouldn't allow. Prostitutes are great, but they don't generally come with brains to match their looks and they don't trust you to not damage the goods. One look at your bum leg and they take lots of fun positions off the table that involve trusting in your strength to prevent them from breaking something.

She has a laundry list of things she wants to try with you as well.

At this point, you are sure Cameron's other calling could have been an engineer. She has a very deep understanding of leverage. And she trusts you to know your own limits, so if you're game she's game. She really likes to push your limits and least once so far, you did, nearly breaking something, crashing to the floor in an awkward body pile; then laughing your asses off because the giant crash had Wilson knocking timidly on the door to make sure you both weren't dead. So far you've learned that, much like you, she really enjoys sex and, for both of you, sex is mostly about having fun.

It's only been a week, so you still both have a very long list of fun things to make it through.

Not that you haven't had your intimate moments emotionally. Like the first time in the office, or the one time you were too tired to actually have sex, and just ended up naked in bed kissing and necking for about half an hour.

You had assumed the first time your age got in the way of a hard-on with Cameron would be embarrassing, but unfortunately it happens from time to time. Then again, she's a doctor, so it's not like she isn't aware of the less-than-finer points of middle-age male biology. For whatever reason it wasn't embarrassing at all. She didn't prompt an awkward conversation about how 'normal' it is, or act offended, or accuse you of not wanting her. She seemed content just kiss you until you both decided to sleep.

You made it up to her in the morning, when a night of spooning naked had reawakened Little Greg. You woke up fully hard pressed against the soft curve of her ass. She was completely wet, but you are sure she was still asleep when you glided into her and started fucking her from behind at a painfully languid pace, reaching around to stroke her clit just as slowly.

That was the first time she called you Greg, in or out of bed.

You smile at the thought that your girlfriend calling you by your first name seems so intimate. But you both live in a world of surnames. You and Wilson rarely even break the professional norm outside of work, when she was with Chase you rarely heard them call one another Allison and Robert. You even find you introduce yourself as House to people outside of work half the time.

Calling her Allison in return is just as intimate; you see it in her eyes when you ask her to come for you by her first name. Like the action of 'Allison' exiting your lips is the cause of her orgasm.

You actually found yourself feeling sorry for Chase. Beyond whatever emotion turmoil came with being dumped on your wedding day, he was missing out on a great lay. It was hard at first, finding the right balance of snark with Chase, but in the end you did your best to just not be any different than you would have been if you weren't bonking his ex.

You've come to like Chase. He and Cameron were always game to help you pranking and testing the new members of your team. Even though you fired Chase, he didn't hold it against you. He got it. He needed to be pushed out of the nest for a while. Just like Cameron, being away from the team had given him the tools he needed to be on more equal footing with you. To be more sure of his ideas and defend them more effectively rather than just being your 'yes man.'

You wonder if Cameron is right about his reaction to you being together. You remember back to when you and Wilson had dragged him out speed dating. You were amused that he didn't realize that women found him to be a boy toy. He seemed to be doing fine with moving on and dating other people that night.

You enjoyed hanging out with him. You'd had gone out a few times for drinks with he and Wilson, and even spent some time hanging out with him during Wilson's time with Amber.

He never really gave you the impression he was threatened by you. But then again, you more or less rejected Cameron's affections publicly. But he also lived with Cameron, so perhaps between the two of them the insecurities were closer to the surface.

Your thoughts are interrupted by your phone buzzing a text message from Cameron. _\- I've got a real winner for you today. :) Stop by the ER on your way up_

 _Position or case?_ \- You text back which is followed by a quick reply from her. - _No sense in spoiling the surprise_

With that you swing out of bed. You head to your bathroom, then out to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast of Ibuprofen and cereal. You debate tossing on your sweats, but decide why bother wearing clothes with no one home.

After a quick bowl of cereal, you toss a bagel in the toaster and find the Ibuprofen in an island drawer before limping to the fridge to wash a dose down by drinking milk straight from the carton. As you drink, you notice someone walking in the room. You turn slightly to see a pretty blond, early to mid forties staring at you. As you place the milk back into the fridge, as you state "You're new."

"You're naked." She replies back. Only seeming slightly phased.

"And for the record, a little bit cold." You say as you glance down at your dick then back up to her eyes. You'd bother being modest, except you aren't modest. After all, if this new chick was going to be around for a while, she might as well get a full dose of you right from the beginning, because you and Wilson are a package deal. No pun intended.

She turns from you and starts walking to the other side of the island, glancing back uncomfortably as she scratches her head and doles out an apology "I'm sorry, I didn't know that anyone was home. James had an early call, and I was just leaving."

You follow her around grabbing the cereal box as you go "Without breakfast?"

"I'm fine, thanks. I'm Sam, by the way." She says as she turns back to you meeting you square in the eyes, giving up on the idea that she is going to be spared more of the awkward encounter.

"House. Nice to meet you." You reply, again with the surname, as you offer her a friendly naked handshake as if that sort of thing happens every day.

She reaches to grab the blue apron that is lying on the countertop and thrusts it toward you. "It'd be nicer if you'd put this on."

You take it, and toss it on and unsuccessfully try to tie it behind you. "So you and Wilson…"

"...thought you were staying in New York last night." She finishes for you.

"Sorry, must have missed the 'if this trailer be a-rockin'' sign out front." You smile and and thumb back over your shoulder with a glance toward the front door.

"I'm really late," she starts as she gathers her purse and keys and starts walking past you "so if there's any chance that we can pretend this never happened, I'd be completely fine with that." And with that she heads to the door and on her way, just as your bagel pops up from the toaster.

' _Today is going to be interesting,_ ' you think to yourself as you grab the hot bagel and start tossing it from hand to hand to try to stop from burning your hands.


	5. Confessions of a Knight in Naked Armor

_!Spoiler Warning!_

Continuing on with the second installment of my AU version of "Knight Fall" (6.18). By now you should have ran away if you didn't want to be spoiled.

Thanks to those of you who have stopped by and dropped a note in the reviews or favorited/followed the story. I'm having fun with Hameron and I am glad other readers are out there that seem to be Hameron fans too.

* * *

Chapter 5: Confessions of a Knight in Naked Armor

When you get to the hospital you head straight to the ER. You poke around the treatment area for a minute and when you don't see Cameron, you head to her office to check there. Her door is closed, which doesn't stop you. You open it and barge in like you do everyone else's office, figuring if people want privacy they should learn to turn the lock.

You close the door behind you, walk toward her desk, drop you backpack in the floor, and flop down in the chair across from a working Cameron. She maintains her working composure more or less ignoring you, which you know she does just to force you to make the first move. Work or play? Your choice.

You think about it for a moment and seriously consider getting up and biting her neck to see where it goes, but you have other things on your mind after the events of the morning.

"Apparently, Wilson's found himself a new piece of ass and has been hiding it from me." You toss out and wait for her reaction.

She looks up at you. She's wearing her glasses, and her face is making that cute little crinkle it makes when she is thinking. Maybe it's not too late for neck biting you wonder for a second, as you wait for her reply.

Her look changes to one of mock concern. "He's cheating on you? Poor baby. That shouldn't be a surprise though; he does have a track record." Then with a glint, "Does this mean you're admitting to being the old piece of ass? Because I've still got $200 riding on your being the bottom."

God, you love it when she turns your own game on you. You wonder if she had always thought things like that, and was just being too polite or too professional to say them, or if you had just rubbed off on her that much.

"I am old, and I am an ass. Of course now that she's seen me naked, she'll likely realize that there is no way she can compete with this sexy ass and leave him before it destroys her self-image."

Wait for it, oh yeah, there's the look you are waiting for. She rolls her eyes, takes her glasses off and pinches the bridge of her nose as she leans her head forward and closes her eyes. Shaking her head she looks back up at you. "Okay, House, I'll bite, but I know I am going to regret this. Why the hell did she see you naked?"

"Well, as you now know, I like to sleep naked at the condo, because Wilson keeps it too hot at night. When I woke up, I assumed I was alone, so I decided to have naked breakfast."

"Of course you did." She says tersely.

You smile devilishly at her and remind her "Last time, I seem to recall you very much enjoyed naked breakfast. Now that would have been something fun for her to walk in on."

With that, Cameron's face flushes slightly. Satisfied with the reaction you continue. "So, anyway, as I am wandering around the kitchen, this blond chick walks in the room and sees me in all of my glory. She didn't seem too freaked out by it, because, as you know, I'm an irresistible stud. So we exchanged pleasantries and she ran off to work."

"I can't believe I signed up for this sometimes." She says as she leans back in her desk chair and rocks side to side. She's not really mad at you, you can tell. But you know she is just a little bit perturbed you spent your morning naked with Wilson's new girlfriend. Even if it was completely by accident.

"Wilson is soo going to kill you when he finds out. Do you think this is a girlfriend or some one night stand? I assume she wasn't a working girl, considering it is Wilson and your lack of real enthusiasm about being naked with her." She asks you trying to steer the conversation in a somewhat normal direction. Well, at least normal for you.

"Definitely girlfriend. She was too comfortable for it to have been her first night there. I guess while the cat's been away, Wilson's been at play."

You start wondering why he hasn't told you. Wilson is such a girl and when you hooked up with Stacy he was just exploding to go on double dates with you and do 'couple's' things. Why wasn't he gushing all over himself to have dinner with you and Cameron and New Chick? Why was he hiding her from you?

Your leg aches a bit as you think. You rub it subconsciously to help ease the pain.

"Have you talked to him about it yet?" Your mind snaps back to the room and to Cameron's question.

"Nope, but I plan to. But first I'd like to know if I have a new case or a new position."

She leans forward and crosses her forearms on her desk and with a wink tells you "Okay, but first you have to close your eyes."

You do as you are told and try to suppress a smile, but you know a grin is pulling at the side of your lips as Cameron brushes past you to pick something up behind you. You feel her walk past you again. "Okay, open them." She says to you and you do as you're told again.

"Cool." Your eyes focus on the handle of a single handed broadsword which Cameron is holding by the sheth over one arm as she bows a bit encouraging you to unsheathe it.

You stand, and switch your cane to your left hand, then pull the sword dramatically from its covering and start swinging it around your body like a hero in a movie. "Damn, you are a kinky little girl. You do realize, though, that knight-in-shining-armor really isn't my style? But, maybe you are looking for a dark knight to kidnap you and have his wicked way with you in the tower." You say suggestively to her as you bring the sword's broad side to lay on the left side of her neck in a mock threat and pause to give her a suggestive look.

"I can totally get into that." You say more quietly with a flash of heat in your blue eyes.

She, holds your look for a moment with raised eyebrows before she smirks "I don't think they had elevators in the middle-ages." Then hands you a maroon case file.

"Ouch. Glad to know my girlfriend isn't above dealing a low blow to a cripple." You qip back your double entendre, as you lay the sword on her desk and take the case file and start reviewing the history and symptoms.

"I think I proved that more than once this week. So wadda you think, pretty cool right?" She asks and leans back on her desk as you read through.

"You do know what I like." You say then, move forward and push her back onto her desk more as you lay your cane and file down on the desk on either side of her. You place your right hand on her neck and stroke her jaw line with your thumb as you lean down to kiss her.

She responds to you, granting your tongue access, before placing a hand to your chest and pulling back slowly. "Work." She whispers and glances at the unlocked door that you'd barged through just a few moments before. You nod, placing a quick kiss on her forehead as you back away.

Before you get too far back, you grab the sword again, "I'll be keeping this for later." You promise with a wink. She bites her lip, and nods. Then you take the file and your cane in your left hand, the hand you should use it in anyway. You look down at your backpack and decide to run the sword through the top handle to pick it up. You toss in the file, and swing sword up to rest over your shoulder with the backpack still draped over it.

Cameron giggles at you and you look back and smile. "I'll see you later, Allison. Go home soon and get some sleep. Text me when you wake up. Maybe we can do a little role playing. I can do one hell of a sexy English accent." The blush in her cheeks rises again partly because of your flirtation and partial because you've not used her first name outside the bedroom. She smiles broadly back at you.

"Have fun today Greg." She returns the gesture in kind and steps up to give you a light kiss on the lips. For a moment you contemplate locking the door so you can hear what it sounds like when she moans your name. Down, boy. Save it for later.

"And go easy on Wilson." she says as she walks back to her desk and sits back down.

"When am I ever not the perfect gentleman?" You say back mockingly shocked.

She rolls her eyes and returns to her paperwork as you turn to open the door. "Later, House."

You walk out closing the door behind you.

* * *

You take your new case to your team and present it to them with twirling sword play and even manage to take the head off of the model of the human head that decorates the top shelf of the DDX conference room. It has to be one of the coolest work mornings you've had in awhile. You are sure Taub is going to shit his pants when you swing the sword a few inches from his head.

Shock value is something you crave, but it gets harder as people get used to you. You'll have to give Cameron a proper 'thank you' later for scoring such a great prop.

You give your team their orders then walk out the door to find Wilson. You figure the logical place to start is his office, so you walk the short distance from your DDX room to his door and bust in sword swinging stopping just in front of Wilson's neck. "Who's the chick, and why are you hiding her?"

Wilson, looks mildly confused by your weilding a sword, but doesn't even ask, instead focusing on your questions. "You were home last night?" He says with a frustrated groan.

You lower your sword, close his door and continue further into the room all while continuing to grill Wilson the puzzle of his new girlfriend. "And this morning. I bumped into your babe, naked."

"I told you to stay out of my bathroom."

"I was in the kitchen." You correct him.

"She was naked in the kitchen?" He questions, now seeming more confused.

"I was naked." You correct him again, becoming somewhat amused with Wilson's reaction.

"Why the hell were you naked in the kitchen?" Wilson asks even more frustrated and confused.

"Uh, it's not important right now. What is, is why you didn't want me to meet her in the first place." Wilson rolls his eyes as you continue. "Is she married?"

"No."

"A patient?"

"I don't have time for this." He starts to walk away from you, grabbing his lab coat in an effort to try to escape his own office.

You don't relent, because damnit, why the hell is he hiding this from you. "She used to be a man." You guess, just to try to get a reaction.

"House!"

"Wants to be a man. Sam — it's a man's name, short for…"

You idiot, it's his ex!

It hits you like a ton of bricks and you move to block Wilson's path to his door and raise your sword laying it across your arm, pointed right at him again. "Samantha. The soulless harpy you were married to before we met."

Sighing, he replies "People change House. Look at you and Cameron."

"Now you're just deflecting. I know all about that thanks to the therapy and all. Sure people change. They get older, ovaries start drying up, and nice guys like you look attractive again."

"What was your excuse for dating Cameron again?" Wilson comes back, looking up and tapping his hand to his chin in a mock thinking stance. "Didn't she change too, or wait, was it you that changed? I get confused? Which one of your ovaries is drying up again?" He finishes looking back at you, narrowing his dark brown eyes, daring you to continue.

You consider his words. You have changed, at least you are trying to change. Cameron definitely has changed, or at least as far as the way she acts around you. But you shake off the thought. Cameron's problem was being too nice, not being a heartless bitch. And she certainly hasn't become one. Then again, she did leave Chase on their wedding day. But better that, than in a messy and heated divorce.

When you don't respond he relents. "Listen, I know that, in your own demented way, you think you're looking out for me. But I have this."

You don't believe that for a second but you are starting to see you can't stop him. He's on the love train again, and once he's bought the ticket, you just get stuck at the station until he ends up with another alimony payment and a return ticket back to you.

"By this, you mean a sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach. Fine. I get it. It's your life." You open the door for Wilson. "You go screw it up. I can wait."

"For what?" He asks you.

"To tell you 'I told you so.'" You say as you finally move out of his way. He gives you an incredulous look as he walks by you to exit his office.


	6. Partner in Bed Partner in Crime?

_A Thank You Note._

Just wanted to thank everyone who is reading so far and taking the time to drop a review or favorite to let me know. I'd also like to thank astavares for coming on board as a beta reader. It's been a big help having a second pair of eyes and also someone to toss ideas around with.

I did have another person mention they'd be interested in helping beta, but left the comment as a guest user. Whomever you are, feel free to PM me. It never hurts to have more than one beta in general, but it also makes it easier to move things forward if beta gets busy.

* * *

Chapter 6: Partner in Bed; Partner in Crime?

You head back to your office to think while your team is gathering evidence on your new patient. You lay back in your lounge chair. What the hell was Wilson thinking? You ask yourself as you rub your leg again. It's becoming a bad pain day. It's always a bad pain day when you feel out of control. You grab the bottle of Ibuprofen you keep in your jacket pocket and take three, swallowing them dry and wishing just a little they were Vicodin.

You need a distraction from your leg and a solution to save Wilson from himself. Cuddy was there the first time around. She had seen the aftermath of Samantha, the soul destroyer. Maybe she would help you make Wilson see reason.

Wilson didn't even keep a picture of her. He'd removed all evidence of her from his life and if you hadn't met him so close to the fallout, noticed the folder from the divorce attorney he was carrying around everywhere at the convention in New Orleans, then spending night after night with a very drunk, depressed and self destructive Wilson, you might not even know her name.

Then again you might not even know Wilson. Her crushing him had oddly brought you together, but there was still no love lost there. You wouldn't trade Wilson's friendship for the hottest hooker in the world, but fuck Sam if she thinks she can just waltz in for a little replay and leave you to pick up the pieces later.

You're not exactly the guy Wilson wants relationship advice from. In fact, you've never gotten along well with any of his women. They don't seem to understand your relationship with Wilson. No one really gets it. Well, maybe Cameron might get it. The way she jokes about it makes you think if someone does get it, it's her.

And she isn't really stretching the truth as far as the hospital rumor mill goes. There is plenty of evidence to fuel the rumors that you and Wilson are a closet case. Your relationship is every bit as close as any marriage; just minus the sex. If the two of you were gay, it would probably would be the perfect relationship for you. But you're not, thus it's inevitable that when women become involved with either of you, it complicates things.

You're terrible at relationships; you don't have very many levels emotionally. Other people have different levels of friendship and are comfortable with the gain and loss of intimacy as their lives evolve. You hate pain. Allowing yourself to develop affection for people is hard, because they eventually move on and you are left with the pain of their leaving. It's all the byproduct of your addictive and obsessive personality. You seem to have two emotional settings — zero and eleven. You stay detached or you love or hate fiercely. It is a big risk for you when you allow yourself to love because love can so easily turn to hate and hate always gets turned in on yourself in the form of pain.

You think back to Amber. Wilson had really loved her. She was also the first of Wilson's girlfriends who seemed to understand your relationship with him. Oh, she liked to use it against you, but there was a reason you called her Cut-throat Bitch, though you respected her for it. You didn't like having to share, but at the same time, she made Wilson happy.

You wonder how things would have panned out if Amber hadn't come to get you that night. Would they still be together? Would you still have melted down? Probably. Maybe your brain would have picked someone else to personify itself, but Kutner was the real catalyst for your eventual breakdown.

You wondered if Cameron and Amber would have gotten along. Maybe. Doesn't matter. It's foolish thinking on your part to be even be musing about it. You can't change it.

You are left with the matter at hand. Getting rid of Samatha.

Maybe Cameron can help you figure something out. Your brow furrows as you are deep in thought. Then the proverbial light bulb switches on.

Maybe you can kill two birds with one stone. Convince Sam that you and Wilson are really gay lovers and help Cameron win out on that office betting pool. She seemed so keen on teasing you both about it, she could totally double down her bet now that Wilson has a girlfriend. Get the sheep to think you're not gay, then figure out a way to get Wilson and yourself in a compromising and easily misinterpreted position at work.

If Wilson was playing along, it would be so much easier. Of course, he never would. You'd kiss him full on the mouth with tongue if you thought the prank pay off was good enough. You know you're not gay; kissing a man wouldn't change that. Wilson is not as comfortable with his sexuality as you. Your thoughts drift back to his fake proposal. That was completely out of the comfort zone for him and completely unexpected for you.

This is why you love Wilson. He can still surprise you, so you were happy to concede the win. Too bad no one at the hospital saw that. It would go a long way to help.

You could fake prostate cancer.

God, that is perfect!

You begin to formulate a plan. You can tell Wilson that Cameron was giving you an amazing blowjob, complete with prostate stimulation. You imagine the look on Wilson's face as his mind gets bombarded with images of Cameron sucking your cock, with her finger up your ass. It amuses you knowing the amount of shock and embarrassment that would overcome Wilson's features.

You make a note to yourself, that perhaps you should ask her to actually do this, to aid in your convincing delivery of the story. You let your mind linger on the thought of her warm mouth surrounding you, her finger slowing penetrating you to massage your prostate and heighten your orgasm.

Reluctantly you break from this exceptional mental image and refocus on the story you'll tell Wilson.

She is concerned because she feels something wrong with your prostate. Her being a doctor and all, convinces you that you should talk to your best friend and oncologist about the odds of it being prostate cancer. Then you convince Wilson to have a look in an exam room.

Cameron would need to play along and may even need to confirm your story. Then she'll instruct the right nurse into the wrong clinic room where your best friend just happens to be 'examining' your prostate. The word will spread quickly from there.

Or maybe you can figure out a way for Sam to walk in on you, that would be even better! You are not above taking a finger in the ass to save your friend, especially with the bonus of making a ton of money from a bet.

Would Cameron actually go for something like that? If you give her the whole picture of a decimated Wilson, maybe she will help you ward off the evil harpy. No, she probably wouldn't go that far, especially given the fact that once you start dating openly, everyone is going to demand a refund. You smile ruefully as you decide against the idea; it could have been an epic prank under different circumstances.

You pull out your phone to text her. 'Still around?' Knowing her shift should be up.

'Just packing up. U need something?'

'I just talked to Wilson. You up to lunch?' You know she's probably tired. But this morning she looked like she'd at least been able to grab a nap at some point in her shift. Her eyes weren't dark and she didn't seemed shattered like she would be after a busy 12 hour shift.

'Sure. Where?'

'Your place.' You hadn't been completely avoiding the occasional cafeteria lunch while in super secret romance mode, but you needed to talk to your girlfriend not your colleague. And you needed to avoid Wilson, which is nearly impossible to do eating here.

'K. I'll pick something up. See u there in 15.'

You exit your office and hop into the elevator and continue out to the parking lot to your bike. You attach your cane and smile for a minute thinking you need to create a way to attach the sword later. You toss over your leg and mount your modern-day stead, don your helmet and zip up your jacket. You stand up and kick the starter, then peal out of the lot speeding off towards Cameron's apartment.

She has a new place since the breakup with Chase. She'd moved into his townhome a few months before the wedding, because her lease was up. It had made perfect sense at the time, but backfired to leave her homeless.

This new place wasn't anything special. She had to find a place quickly and didn't want to tie herself into anything long term on such short notice. This apartment had the advantage of a month to month lease and was available immediately. It was perfect to fly a holding pattern while she figured things out.

She hasn't even bothered moving in half her stuff because she's decided to buy a place in the near future. Her logic being why pack and unpack twice. It takes the fun out of your snooping around, when most of the good pieces of her history are boxed away in storage. It was basically one step up from a hotel room and had about as many personal touches.

It was, at least, little closer to work than her old place, which had proven useful a few times this week with your offset work schedules.

The one real redeeming quality of the place was an extra large tub. The first time you went in the bathroom, you got giddy as soon as you laid eyes on it. Unlike Wilson, Cameron is happy to share her tub with you. Turns out she has bad menstrual cramps often enough that she has warded off living any place without a large tub. If you ever make it to living together, that is a huge check in the plus column for you.

This is her last week working nights for a while. You are looking forward to her getting off work at the same time as you again. You've had so little time together, and most of it has been spent eating, sleeping or fucking. It would be nice to see a movie, or take a long ride on your bike, maybe even take a weekend somewhere fun.

But first things first. You have to figure out this Wilson/Sam thing. Maybe you can convince Cameron to talk Wilson out of this self destructive maneuver. She's good with people. According to Lucas, she and Wilson had gotten very chummy after Amber's death. Back when he'd put you in the dog house.

You pull up to her apartment building and park in the space in front of her door. You sit on your bike waiting for her to pull up. When she does, you walk toward her front door, as she gathers her things from her car and follows you. She unlocks and opens the door and heads inside and you follow close behind.

She drops her computer bag on the couch then heads toward the kitchen. She deposits a large white takeout sack from the deli a few blocks away on a counter that separates her small living room and kitchen. You hope she got the Reuben for you. It's your favorite from there, and they've never fucked up by putting pickles on it.

You've never told her it's your favorite, but she is nearly as observant of your behavior as you are of hers. It seems like she's always known you and what you like; how you like your coffee, what you order at any of your usual restaurants, where you like to hide from clinic duty. You enjoyed it as an employer and took advantage. Now, as a boyfriend, you feel a sort of instant comfort and appreciation of it and you still take advantage, but then again she is taking full advantage of your cock, so seems like a fair trade to you.

She has such a different approach to solving puzzles than you. You always felt she let her emotions get in the way, and you were right about that her first few years under you. Now she seems to have found a balance that gives her insights from angles you'll always be hard pressed to see. But she can let the case go at the end of the day.

The ER deals in bulk damage. She can't hurt for every case. She doesn't have time to get close. She observes, diagnoses, treats and turns over the bed more times in one day than your team does in a month. Though you hate to admit it, you know it's made her stronger, more sure of herself, and that makes her more sexy to you. You like strong women.

She grabs a couple of plates and starts unpacking the sack and plating up your food. You walk to the counter and sit in a bar stool across from her. It is the Reuben, you observe with a smile and grab it up as soon as she slides the plate in front of you taking a huge bite. As you are chewing, you are sure your face is contorting to look somewhat like your cumface.

She smiles at you, shaking her head, as you swallow the bite. "I was just thinking I should give you a key. That is if you haven't already stolen mine and copied it."

She knows that you had keys made to your new team's homes. You hadn't done that with her or Chase. They just fell back onto your team, and you knew enough about them to know what buttons to push so no need to go snooping about.

"Moi?" You feign shock, placing your hand on your chest. "I can't believe you think I'd ever do such a thing. Your lack of trust wounds me to the core." You give her the pouty face, then take another bite.

She rolls her eyes and removes a key from a set of spare keys hanging on the wall near her refrigerator. She holds the key up toward you. "Do you want the key or not?"

You reach for it and snag it from her outreached hand and slide it into your pocket and resume devouring your sandwich. She grabs two waters from the fridge and places one in front of you, then walks around to sit beside you and begins eating her turkey on wheat with a side salad.

You consider the implications of the key. It's an invitation to come and go as you please. Another sign that she is happy moving forward with building a relationship with you. You know that with Chase she had preferred his place over hers. You correctly saw it as a sign that he was more comfortable opening his life to Cameron than the other way around.

You've certainly spent more time at her place than at the condo. Mostly because of convenience and privacy. Neither of you had been to your home at all since you started this. You figure she understands why, despite the fact you have yet to open up much about your breakdown. She's not an idiot, and you know she and Wilson have most likely talked about it. Your situation is not normal. Well, nothing about you is normal. Normal is overrated anyway.

Besides it's only been a week and she's been at work more nights than not, so sleeping together has only been more than a euphemism a couple of times. But next week she'll be back to normal hours for a few months and the key is an obvious gesture that she wants you around.

You finish eating, quickly scarfing down your Reuben by the time Cameron is only half finished. You open your water and take a big drink. Your leg is still aching. You start to rub it again as you stare off into the kitchen, your thoughts drifting back to the blond you met in Wilson's kitchen earlier that day. You should call Lucas. Have him look into her; get some ammunition to help execute her demise.

"House, are you okay? You seem distracted and your acting like your leg hurts more than normal today. What happened with Wilson?"

"Turns out the chick from this morning is his first wife, Samantha. The one that sucked out his soul and left him the broken mess he was when I first met him. She must be giving him some great sex, because somehow he's forgotten how she chewed him up and spat him out the first time."

Staring off into her kitchen, you lay out the whole story, how you met Wilson, the mess he was in because of the divorce. You can see her reaction in your periphery. She starts pushing her salad around with her fork, and stops eating, still looking down at her plate.

"Oh. I didn't know his first marriage was that bad. I mean, he's never really talked about her much." She pauses for a moment, considering your statement and what she knows from her friendship with Wilson. "Wait, I thought wives one and two left him because he cheated, so he can't be perfectly innocent, even if the separation was that hard on him."

"He cheated on Samatha for lots of reasons; comfort, spite, distraction. She drove him to it. He's too caring and nice and open to allowing himself to be crushed. He's needy that way. He needs to be needed. She made him feel everything but needed, so he'd start comforting every damsel in distress that came across his path all the way to the bedroom. He just fell into a pattern after that."

"And you don't think Sam was hurt at all?" She asks reasonably, but fuck reason, this is your best friend you're talking about, maybe your only real friend. Wilson is the poster boy for nice. Sam crushed him, so he cheated for comfort and that's all on her. You feel yourself getting pissed and you lose the self control you've been practicing on your ever so sharp tongue.

"So what if she was? She should be after destroying Wilson. You'd think that would be a good reason for her to also avoid making the same mistake twice."

You're fuming, Cameron doesn't seem to see your reasoning, or at least she doesn't agree with it. Is she being purposefully dense, you wonder, or is this a chick thing? The man is always at fault in some way? You turn to her and yell in her face, as if she is back on your team and just made the most ridiculous conclusion about a diagnosis.

"And you're supposed to be on my side! Isn't that some sort of girlfriend requirement? Or maybe you identify with her as a fellow soul crusher. Nice guys beware! The heartbreak bitches are on the loose. Use you, then lose you. Seems to be a familiar pattern now that I think about it."

"Fuck you!" She spits back. "I know you are, in your typically screwed up House way, trying to protect Wilson, but grow the fuck up! He's an adult, and he can make big boy decisions about who he dates." She points a finger to your chest in anger. "You know, this is exactly the reason why he's hiding her."

She stands up and walks away from you into the living room, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. You've really pissed her off. Great job, asshole. You swing around on the bar stool to face her as she turns back around to you and continues to give as good as she got.

"You can really be one class-A jerk! Did it ever occur to you that shit like this the reason why I'm not so eager to spread the news of our relationship this time around! I don't need a goddamn intervention from everyone who 'knows' I'm going to get hurt, and neither does Wilson! You need to concentrate on your own fucked up life House, and let Wilson concentrate on his. Chances are you'll both fuck it up and end back up alone together anyway, but at least it won't be because you were both too chicken shit to at least try to have a relationship."

The room falls silent as you absorb her words. She cut you back as sharply as you'd cut her. Your eyes drift away from her to the floor. Your leg continues cramping. You rub it aggressively through your jeans. Why are you so compelled to screw things up? You don't want Wilson to be hurt, but you also didn't really want to hurt Cameron either, but you did. Once you clamp your mind around a problem you're like a snapping turtle who's been baited to bite a stick. You can't let loose. You're so frightened of what the stick might poke if you let go, you'll let it be used to stretch your neck out for the chop of an axe. You fail to see that your own fear-driven obsession is worse than just letting go of the damned stick.

It's a constant battle. It's what makes you a great doctor. It's what makes you a failure at relationships. Wilson and your mother seem to be the only two people who can deal with it long term. And to be fair, you seem to be able to spare your mother your acerbic nature, so she doesn't really count.

Cuddy is resolved to enable your rogue genius at work, and in your very dark times has proven a friend, but she still keeps you at arm's length for fear of the eventual hurt you both know you'll cause.

And then there is Cameron. You pushed her away for years, but she never really gave up on you. You let her in, and now you tear her down without a thought, over something she has no fault in. It's your go-to move. It's deeply woven in from years as a boy with no other way to protect himself from an abusive father. He could overpower you, force you into ice baths, or lock you in your room for days, but you learned very early on that your mind was far quicker and words could cut as deep as a blade. So you became a master at wielding them. It spilled over into all of your relationships.

You hate yourself for it sometimes. It's a no-win scenario for you. Admit you're wrong, or pretend you don't give a shit and self punish. You've been taught that you should be punished for bad behavior. You've convinced yourself that pain helps you remember not to repeat mistakes. You must spend half of your time with Nolan dealing with the concept of asking for forgiveness and accepting it when given.

You're an idiot. Two words and Cameron will forgive you. She'll still have been hurt, but she'll make you feel better just for saying two words. It seems counter intuitive to get a reward for being hurtful. But you are slowly learning that it can help reduce the pain both ways. You have to try. You don't want to go down the rabbit hole again.

Cameron breaks the silence and your thoughts. "I'm tired House. I've had a long night and I need to sleep."

"I'm sorry. I was out of line." You say looking back up at her. She walks back to you and runs the backs of her fingers across the scruff on your cheek.

"Yes. You were. But I know you are just trying to protect your friend." She says so compassionately you think you might melt. "Let me give you a massage or run you a bath. You're acting like you're in a lot of pain today. I know that makes you lash out. It's not okay, but I know you are trying."

Her offer sounds so tempting, but you don't think you deserve her comfort. You need to start focusing on something you can control, like diagnosing your patient. "I have to get back. Foreman and Thirteen will be back from Middle-Earth soon and I'll need to get back to figuring out how to rescue our knight." You say as you wrap your arms around her and lay soft kisses against her neck as a sort of apology.

"They can call you if they need you. Right now you should also focus on how to rescue our night; 'cause you were just kind-of-a big jerk and I expect dinner and great apology sex tonight. In order for that to happen, your leg needs to hurt less."

God, when she talks like that you think you might love her. Well, you know, not in love love, well maybe. Dammit, it's hard to analyze your emotions when you're fantasizing about being inside of her. You pull back and she bends down to give you a peck on the lips.

You look up at her and with a serious and very uncharacteristically adult tone give her a mock lecture about her priorities. "Why Dr. Cameron, I am shocked that an ethical doctor, such as yourself, would put a booty call ahead of a patient's well being."

Just as professionally, she rebuts, "I'm not. It's in everyone's best interest for you to be less of an asshole. And less pain equals less asshole. Your leg hurts less, so you can't think straight. It's just my way of helping the patient to get the best care possible." She says with a wink and you smile back, enjoying her logic. "So which will it be? Massage or bath?"

"Does the massage come with a happy ending?" You ask like a hopeful 14 year old boy.

"Hey, don't push it. You're the one who fucked up, so I'm the one who gets the next orgasm."

"Is that some sort of rule I missed in the Dating 101 textbook?" You tease.

She smirks and takes a gentle hold on your suit jacket lapels. "Here's how this works: You get a leg massage, and only a leg massage, to help you get through your day. As I give it to you, you'll consider that Not-so-little Greg would have had a happy ending, had Big Greg not been a complete ass to his girlfriend. Afterwards, you'll get dressed and go back to work in less pain and you'll concentrate on being brilliant. After work, you'll come back here, where I expect that razor-sharp tongue of yours to spend some quality time reminding me why I put up with it."

"I take it all back; you are evil." You pout, but you do your best to melt her with a playful look. Her eyes are amused but her body gives you a serious pose.

"Go lie down House. Take off your pants; leave on your underwear, and don't expect any funny business. I'll go get the massage cream."

"Yes Mistress Allison." You tease as you stand up to amble back to her bed. She takes your arm, and turns you back to face her. "We can play that game later too." She says with a look that is dripping with eye sex and practically burns a path down the middle of your stomach straight to your crotch.

If you weren't in pain you imagine you'd rip off her clothes, rake the plates off the counter with your cane, sit her on it and fuck her within and inch of her life. She just oozes sex sometimes and now that you've had her, your body responds involuntarily to her heated flirtations.

You see she's enjoying the effect her words and her actions have had on you. "Bed House. No funny business. I'll be right behind you." You resume your course without more words. You want make up sex now, but she's in control in this moment, and this is your punishment. You like that she is punishing you. You especially like the way she is punishing you and you are happy to take your punishment like a man.


	7. Best Laid Plans

_Notes:_

Another big thank you to astavares for helping me proofread and also for her help tossing ideas back and forth for upcoming chapters. I'm pretty excited with the direction we've decided on!

* * *

Chapter 7: Best Laid Plans

Cameron's massage, despite its lack of happy ending, along with another 1500 milligrams of Ibuprofen, is going a long way to improve your pain level . So now you can concentrate on diagnosing without wanting to kill your fellows over every bad suggestion.

You have a standing appointment with a prostitute named Brandy who pulls double duty as your masseuse. It took a long time to find someone, prostitute or not, that does the kind of excellent deep tissue work that Brandy does. Maybe you should let her go, now that you're seeing Cameron. You did at least stop having sex with her last session. Cameron is nearly as good, and with some practice could prove better. She's a much more economic solution to be sure and now has the added advantage to being the only one you should be releasing those kinds of endorphins with, at least for the foreseeable future. You do so love your happy ending.

Your knight is proving to be a challenge. You've ruled out food poisoning, allergic reaction and his new symptoms are now pointing to MRSA. You are pretty happy you don't deal directly with patients when something like MRSA could be the diagnosis. You're a bit concerned for Cameron, but she wasn't personally attending him in the ER, the case came across her desk and she brought it your way. No need to freak her out, unless the tests come back positive.

In the meantime, you are back to concentrating on the Sam situation. Cameron has told you you should mind your own business and concentrate on you and her. Maybe she's right, but you aren't able to just drop the matter that easily. It's not in your nature.

You need a proxy, someone who is better with people, someone Wilson trusts.

Cuddy.

A few moments later you are barging into her office per your usual routine, announcing as you enter "Need to talk."

Still going over several charts on her desk she replies without looking up. "About the MRSA? I know, we're—"

As you sit in the chair across from her desk, propping your foot against her desk, you interrupt. "MRSA, shmrsa. Something important."

With a look of dread and frustration she caves into your conversation. "Something you think is more important than the potentially lethal bacteria spreading like wildfire through my hospital? Well, that narrows it down to something personal and stupid."

You affirm with a single word. "Wilson."

"Theory confirmed. He is dating his first wife. I know." She states matter of factly, dropping the bomb that she was not left in the dark by Wilson as well. That sneaky son of a bitch.

"I don't believe it." You mutter, incredulously, with a grin.

"That he didn't ask your permission first?" She questions you in her sardonic tone.

"No, that he's actually capable of keeping a secret from me." Processing the full deception, you clarify. Then again you have been getting some great sex lately, and haven't exactly been spending a ton of time with Wilson since hooking up with Cameron.

"Well, you'd be surprised how many things Wilson doesn't tell you." She's getting cocky, and you can't resist the urge to take her down a few notches. You know more than your fair share of scandalous secrets about the sultry Dean of Medicine.

You chuckle and lean forward in your chair, continuing playfully. "Would I? Like — like how you slept with your father's best friend or…"

Cuddy cuts you off abruptly, confirming a point scored. "I'm gonna kill him."

"You need to break them up."

"Forget it."

Pleading the case you remind her why you're upset. "So you'd rather sit back and watch while the evil blonde gorges on Wilson's tender flesh and then tosses out his bones like she did the last time? You remember what he was like after that?"

"Yes, I do." There, she confirms it. But she still seems resolved to do nothing.

You prod her more, hoping for her to have a change of heart, but knowing that you are losing the battle quickly. "Well, then do something." You sit back in frustration. "God knows he's not gonna listen to me. You, on the other hand, have decades of experience dating and being attracted to losers. Obviously, I don't include myself."

"You know what happens when you interfere in other people's relationships?"

"Of course. I do it all the time." You think about that for a moment. She's right, it rarely ends well. "Hmm, I see your point."

"That is why I'm staying out of this. You force him to choose, you might not like the answer."

God, why are the woman in your life so dead set against this? Maybe you should just stay out of it. Let Wilson take his wounds like a man, then come back to you to lick them. The idea doesn't settle well with you.

You head back to your office; desperate times call for digging up skeletons.

Back in your office, you sit in your chair and grab your phone to dial Lucas. As it begins ringing, your wrist itches, and you scratch at it ideally as you wait for Lucas to pick up.

"What's up House?"

"Listen, I have a little project for you. I need you to find out everything you can about Samantha Carr."

You continue the conversation, filling Lucas in on as much information as you have and end the call. Your wrist continues to itch, and you inspect it as you bring the phone down from your ear.

Recognizing the type of welts forming there, it becomes clear the diagnosis is still wrong. "It's not MRSA." You mutter and grab the file to reread the report. They have bonfires every night. The idiots must be burning brush that includes poison ivy vines and chopping it with their swords. You must have come in contact with it from there. You toss the file back on your desk and make the trek to the lab to inform your fellows that the search continues.

Your case does little to improve as the work day comes to an end and you are back to food poisoning, maybe from someplace other than the fair. The fellows will treat tonight and you'll know by morning if you are right. It's time for you to head home, so you grab your jacket and head to downstairs.

As you pass the front desk you are stopped by Wilson.

"Can we talk privately for a minute?" He asks and you nod heading toward the clinic to find an empty room you can duck into. As you close the door, Wilson begins.

"Hey. I can't believe I'm about to say this. Sam…"

You interject quickly at the mention of her name. "Told you so."

Wilson shakes his head "No, she didn't dump me. She wants to get to know you better."

Too bad. You knew it couldn't just be that easy, so you continue with your sarcastic banter. "Damn it. I never should have let her see me naked."

"It goes against all my instincts, but I said all right." He says to you, in a worried tone.

"Why?" You ask.

"She thinks I was hiding her from you."

"You were." You reply, confirming what he knows is true.

"I don't want her to know." He shoots back showing his desire to not look bad in front of Sam. You actually enjoy him squirm a bit. You don't like being kept in the dark any more than she likes being hidden.

With a slight look of mock shock, you respond "So you're asking me to condone a relationship based on lies and mistrust."

"Yeah." He confirms.

Your expression turns of one of demented excitement. "When and where?"

"Tonight, Blue Whisper Jazz Club, 8:00, and bring Cameron along. Since we're both dating someone, the girls should meet at some point too. I called ahead and reserved that booth that's tucked away in the back, since you guys are still on the downlow at work."

"I knew you couldn't last much longer without dragging us out on a double date." You roll your eyes. "What am I gonna wear? All my cereal boxes are at the cleaners. Maybe Cameron can join me in the buff this time. It's only fair that you get to see her naked, since Sam has seen me."

Wilson opens his mouth to speak, but then pauses with his mouth open in a silent ahh. His eyes lose focus on you briefly as he pictures Cameron naked. He raises his eyebrows, in a 'that could be fun' look, which earns him a swift smack in the shin from your cane. "Hey! Stop picturing my woman naked!"

Wincing, he whines back. "You're the one that brought it up!

"House, listen. I know you're worried about me, and I also know that that kind of unselfishness doesn't come naturally to you. But I don't want your help. I don't need your help. Just come to dinner and be your usual selfish self."

You half smile back to him, as you reach for the door knob. "How could I say no?"

You leave work and swing by the condo to grab some nicer clothes for your dinner date with Wilson and Sam. You even pick an ironed blue shirt and manage to find a black and silver tie you didn't even know you owned. You also decide to pack some things to take to Cameron's place. It stands to reason that with a key, will come space in a drawer or two. You grab a small suite case and toss in some underwear, socks, a few t shirts, a pair of jeans, a pair of khakis, and three oxford button-downs.

Heading to the bathroom, you grab a small dusty faux leather toiletry case from your cabinet, dust it off and inspect the contents. You find a couple of extra razors (who knows how old those are, since it's been at least a year since you've done more than use a trimmer), a small shaving cream container, a spare toothbrush, and a travel sized mostly used tube of toothpaste. You toss out the toothpaste, figuring you can use Cameron's, and toss in a spare deodorant, beard trimmer, and depression meds.

Satisfied you have what you need for the next few nights, you leave for Cameron's apartment. During the drive you let your thoughts drift to make up sex. You don't have much time before dinner. You could do a lot in 30 minutes or so, but you are sure Cameron will want more than half an hour to tame her bedhead and get gussied up. So you reside yourself to the idea of fucking her after dinner, hopefully with that hot little red number you saw in her closet hiked up around her waist, her thong still on, pushed aside by your hard cock as you thrust into her. It's a delicious dessert option to be sure.

Damn, you are glad she has the next two nights off, and isn't on call. But, being off now, means she'll be working the weekend. One more week of this awful schedule seems like an eternity. It seems worse than clinic duty. You just want to spend a whole lazy day with her, fucking at your leisure, playing video games, taking a ride on your bike, then maybe taking a 'ride' on your bike. You pull into the lot in front of her apartment before you can explore your ideas in detail.

Exiting your car, you smile as you consider this is the first time you've let yourself into her place. She'll be inside, most likely still in bed. Hopefully she managed at least five hours sleep. She can crash a few hours again after dinner, well, after sex. She'll end up awake again in the middle of the night and sneak out of bed to try to keep her schedule, but at least you can fall asleep together.

As you let yourself in, you are careful to keep quiet. You turn on the lamp on the end table, and lay your hung suit over the back of the couch. You make one more trip to the car to get your suitcase and walk with it back toward the bedroom. The door is closed, but not latched, and you push it open with the tip of your cane.

Once open, you observe the dark room. All the blinds are closed and curtains drawn over them, to keep out the daylight, though some still bleeds through from the western window to give the room a dull glow. A queen sized bed with a slatted dark cherry wood headboard sits against the opposite wall a few feet to the right of center. It is flanked by a dresser to your left as you face the bed, and a night stand to your right. In it, Cameron is sleeping soundly.

She has kicked off the covers, which are bunched now at the foot of the bed, and is sleeping on the far side of the bed. She's turned away from the door, partially on her stomach; half her body, one arm, and one leg draped over a long pillow. You envy the pillow. Her body is lightly covered with a black cotton camisole, accompanied by red cotton bikini cut panties. Practical, yet sexy.

You enter the room, and place your suitcase in front of the dresser and turn to the bed, observing her deep steady breathing, the way her blond hair spills over the pillows. She is wearing a sleeping mask and earplugs. Day sleeping is not always easy. Sensory deprivation can help.

A wicked smile creeps across your features. Sensory deprivation of one sense can help heighten awareness in other senses. The lack of visual and auditory function can make the sense of touch, for instance, quite intense.

Fuck being on time for dinner, you have a much better idea, and there is no way Cameron is going to hold not having time to do her hair against you when you are done with her.

Still being careful to not wake the soundly sleeping Cameron, you start taking off your clothes, leaving on only your watch and your black boxer briefs. As you do, you glance at her headboard. You have already filed away fantasies of being tied to the wooden slats that spanned the frame, but right now, tieing a blind and nearly deaf Cameron to it, seems like the most brilliant idea you've ever had. (And you've had more than your fair share of brilliant ideas.)

You amble back to the living room as quickly as you can, to grab your tie, suddenly very glad you had gone against your nature in deciding to wear it.

Back in her room, you wonder slowly over to the bed and crawl in behind her. You, brush aside her hair and begin planting slow, wet, scruffy kisses on the back of her neck as you stroke her arm slowly from shoulder to wrist. She begins to stir, and roll back against you. As she does, you move back, and lift yourself over her allowing her to roll fully on her back.

As you straddle her, she starts to move her hands to her face but you grab her wrists and pin her to the bed. You start to dive full force into the nape of her neck, to devour the newly exposed flesh there, when you see the signs of poison ivy beginning to form on the left side of her neck.

Damnit.

Your sword play was evident there as it was on your wrist, you hope she doesn't have a strong allergy to it. Nothing to be done now.

You refocus yourself to the right side of her neck and find her pulse, licking and sucking it in rhythm. Her body arches to you as she moans "Fuuck." You pull your head up from her neck to kiss her dirty mouth, hard. She gives you her tongue and you suck it, thrusting your mouth around it, you both let out guttural hums as you tongue fuck her.

Pulling away from her needy mouth, you remember the task at hand. You bring her wrists together, crossing them into your left hand, using it to still hold her firm against the mattress. Your right hand finds your tie, and begins wrapping around her small wrists. She struggles against you in a delicious way, playing the role. Her head lifts up under your chest and she bites you hard. You let out a cry of both pain and surprise. You can feel her smile against you as you jump and cry out, knowing that despite the earplugs, she would have heard that. She follows with a tender lick of the throbbing flesh, then blows on it gently.

"Feisty bitch." You spit out, as you grind your now hardening dick against her belly through fabric of your thin clothing. She shudders under you and you pull the tie tighter and tie the other end to the headboard and give it a strong tug to insure the knot will hold.

Your lips find hers again crashing and dueling, both fighting for control. It is hot, and sloppy, and a complete turn on to know you make her this wanton. Rising up to your knees, you look down at her. Your leg protests some, but sex endorphins are magical things and you are happy to trade this pleasure now for some leg pain later, especially since you know you can soak the agony away later in Cameron's tub. Maybe she'll even join you.

She is always beautiful. But like this, tied under you, breathing hard, her nipples threatening to poke through her cami, she is exquisite. You adjust your penis to sit comfortably in your boxer briefs, the tip peeking out just above the waist band, stroking it twice for good measure. However, this is not about you; this is about Allison.

You hands find the hem of her cami, and begin to slowly push it up her torso, exposing her breasts to you. You place a hand on either side of her body, and lower yourself to just inches above her to take turns placing each peak into your mouth. You take your time, sucking, biting. You stick out your tongue and flicker each tip, then blow cooly over them. Her body reacts with goose bumps and her back arches causing your stomachs to touch.

"Jesus, House." She hisses.

A comment about not being the Son of God, but you can understand why she might get you confused, is on the tip of your tongue, but you hold it because she can't hear you anyway. Instead you smile to yourself and begin your slow decent down her body.

You've only been her lover for a week, but you are an astute observer of every reaction. Women can and will fake their reactions, moaning and screaming, in order to build and encourage confidence in their partners. They lie. Everybody does. But the symptoms of arousal don't lie, the body's natural reactions are not so easily faked. A woman's body can't lie to you because you can read it like an MRI. You have begun to expertly map Cameron's erogenous zones. You know the anatomy, the science, and you are a keen witness to her natural reactions and now you are going to use that information to give Cameron ample reason to need to scream your name while at the mercy of your explorations.

For instance, you know that the clitoris and the navel form from the same tissue, which links them neurologically. In many women, this ties the sensations in the navel directly to their genitals. You've found this is true for Cameron.

You slowly lick a trail down her sternum, over her contracting abdominal muscles to linger just above her belly button before you lick around the perimeter and travel further south to just above her pelvic bone in order to stimulate her 'Sea of Energy' pressure points. Much like the clitoris, a direct assault is not generally the best approach. It can overload the senses too quickly, having the opposite effect than intended. A slow buildup and careful avoidance until the right moment is key.

You take your time teasing her, tracing over the space between two of her most sensitive areas coming dangerously close but carefully avoiding either goal with each pass. You are merciless in your teasing of her until her breaths are coming hard. You smell her arousal, knowing she's dripping wet without taking off her panties or touching between her legs. She is moaning incoherently now, curse words, random hisses and vowels bleed together in a cacophony of sex sound. Her pelvis is undulating below your chest, and you take aim on your final mark and sink your tongue slowly into her navel, fucking it with your mouth, driving her over the edge into orgasm.

Number one. You think to yourself smugly as you look up at her body, wondering if anyone had ever given her an orgasm without direct genital stimulation before.

You give her some time to come back down. As she does, she pants out "I think I can die now. Fuck Greg, that was… fuck."

"You'll get your fuck, Allison." You growl to yourself, low enough you doubt it penetrated the barrier of her earplugs. Raising back to your knees, you look down at your watch. 7:00. You still have time to play. Reaching down now for her red panties, you lightly stroke her through the soft cotton, finding them drenched. She presses against you, rubbing against your hand in time. These need to come off. Taking hold of them with both hands, you rip them off violently.

Cameron takes a sharp intake of air in response. You toss the fabric to the floor and look down at her glistening folds. Her outer labia, lightly covered in well manicured light brown hair, are spread open by her swollen inner lips which are throbbing from arousal. You grab your cock again under your underwear and give it a few more delicious pumps sending warm waves of pleasure radiating over your whole body, bringing yourself close to the edge before returning your focus back to the delectable flesh below you.

You carefully move your legs between hers now, spreading them open, mindful of your right thigh. You can see and feel her anticipation. What will you do to her next? Her body is aching to know, but she remains silent, still playing the game with you.

You pull her left leg up to rest against your chest, with her ankle against your neck and pull her right leg around your left thigh to rest behind your knees. Starting with her ankle, you begin to lightly brush her skin with your beard, occasionally licking and sucking her reddening flesh. You pull her light frame up your thighs until her pussy slides over your hardened sex and you thrust against her through the fabric and grunt at the contact—feeling her juices saturate your boxer briefs causes you to throb against her.

"Fuck me, Greg… please… I need you to fuck me." She begs of you as she slides against you. A burn is radiating from you lower abdomen and your balls tighten. If you continue for much longer you'll come, so you pull away and drop her leg back to the bed and take another moment to just breath and observe the beauty before you. Her body is covered in a light sweat, her smell is intoxicating and nearly enough to give you an orgasm on its own.

You need to taste her, and then fuck her. Still straining against your boxer briefs, which are now soaked with your and her combined lubricant, you decide it is finally time to ditch them. You want to tease her more, but the urge to fuck her is becoming too great, especially with her begging for it. You leave the bed for a moment and shed the last article of clothing and reach to turn on the bedside lamp to better illuminate the darkening room then move to the foot of the bed.

"I hope you're not planning on leaving me here. There's only so much a girl can stand before it turns from fun to her boyfriend sleeping on the couch." Her hips are still grinding. God, she's so fucking ready to be fucked.

You crawl back between her legs nibbling your way up her thighs as you go. "Oh God, yes!" she exclaims, her voice breathy and low, so unlike her normal cheery mezzo soprano, as you hit your mark and begin licking her folds. She tastes like sex; a delicious light tangy flavor that you greedily lap up from her opening, before gently sucking her clit. She lunges under you, convulsing in orgasm, yet you refuse to relent, causing her to spill over again a moment later screaming your given name.

Ending your clitoral assault, you begin crawling back up her body. Your face reaches hers and you kiss her slowly, lovingly, spreading her come all over her mouth as she kisses you back, breathless from her powerful and multiple climaxes.

You need to see in her eyes. You need to tell her how you are going to fuck her.

You remove her earplugs first, then nibble on her left ear and as you whisper a description of what you want to do her next. Your cock sits positioned at her entrance, slipping in an inch as her hips trying to force you together, however your weight on her leaves you in complete control.

"Fuck, Allison. You're so fucking impatient. I'm going to take off your mask. I want you to look me in the eye as I fuck you. I'm going to fuck you slowly, and make you come one more time on my cock. I fucking love it when you come around my cock and your vaginal walls convulse and suck out my fucking man juice. I want you to look at me as we come together. I want to see your pupils dilate. I want to see what my cock does to you and I want you to see what your pussy does to me."

Her body shivers at the words, so lightly and intensely whispered against her ear, the first thing she's been able to hear since you started your quest. She nods a yes and bits her lip. You slip off her mask, and look into her eyes. When you can see that her pupils have adjusted to the light, you stare into them with the heat of a thousand suns.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Allison."

You thrust into her fully and quickly, then rest for a moment before starting a slow sensual rhythm.

Your whole body is pulsing white hot, your cock is so hard it is almost painful, but it is an exquisite pain. Her eyes are focused on yours, darkened by your love making. You continue to take your time, building to your combined climax, slowly stroking her g-spot.

Her look softens as she nears another orgasm, you see her deep love for you there, and you start to hope, in this moment, as you near your own peak, that you can return her love as deeply. Right now you want to, because she makes you feel so good, so powerful, so loved, so... not broken. You strive to convey this to her with a look as you both reach the apex and fall over.

Like two stubborn children refusing to blink first, neither of you dares break your gaze as your breathing slows and your bodies come down from the high, your sexes still joined and pulsing in rhythm. Your arms ache, but you hold yourself above her still, willing the intimacy to continue. This is better than words. Words can will themselves against you, can be misinterpreted, words can lie. Unfortunately, you can't stay like this forever, so you end the moment with another gentle kiss, then raise up to untie her.

Her wrist are lightly reddened, but it won't leave a mark. You kiss each wrist before letting her have her arms back. You sink to the bed on her right side and lie on your back, wishing for a cigarette. You don't smoke often, but after sex like that, smoking seems right. Your body aches a bit; your leg is starting to ache more than a bit as the endorphins drain away.

Cameron cuddles against your side, and starts mindlessly playing with your patch of chest hair. "Apology accepted. And please feel free to do that again without being a jerk first."

"But I am so good at being a jerk." You pout back.

"Well, then I guess it is good for me that you are equally adept at makeup sex." She smiles against you, and you can feel the heat of a blush in her cheeks. "Seriously Greg. You made me come by licking my navel. How the hell does that even work?"

"I guess some doctors pay more attention in medical school than others. I'll give you my class notes later, in case you change your mind about lesbian sex. I'll not have any girlfriend of mine not able to properly please her sapphic lover." Glancing at your watch, you read 7:35. "We're going to be late for dinner with Wilson and psycho bitch from hell, if we don't hurry."

"We're going out to dinner with James and Sam, like on a double date?" She raises up on her forearm to look at you. "What time are we supposed to meet and where?"

"8:00 at the Blue Whisper. It takes 15 minutes to get there from here, so we have 10 minutes to get dressed up. Well, lets say 25 minutes, on House time."

She sits up then swings a leg over your body to sit on you. "I should be pissed for having to rush, but waking up to four oragasms has a way of making it impossible to be mad at the guy who gives them to you."

Her focus shifts to your chest. "Oh, shit. I really bit you hard. That's going to leave a mark for a few days." She lightly rubs over the mark, then traces her fingers up and to your right to graze the gunshot scar on your neck. Leaning down she lightly kisses both marks before getting out of bed and heading to the shower. Her sitting on you leaves you to clean up your come off your stomach, again. She very much enjoys leaving you with the mess whenever she can. You don't mind in the least.

"You should join me and save time." She yells from the bathroom as you hear the shower come to life. Swinging your feet over the side of the bed you sit up, grabbing some tissues from the box on the nightstand to wipe off your ejaculate, then toss it the waste bin. You open the drawer on the nightstand to find the bottle of Motrin that Cameron keeps there. You open the lid, put three in your hand, toss them into your mouth and swallow. Replacing the lid, you toss the bottle back to the drawer and close it, then stand up and limp heavily toward the bathroom to join Cameron in the shower.


	8. Try

Chapter 8: Try

Walking in the bathroom door, you see her standing naked in front of the mirror, the empty shower running in the background, her head tilted to her right as she looks at the poision ivy welts beginning to form. With an high pitch whine, she wonders aloud "How the hell did I get poison ivy on my neck?!" and opens the cabinet behind the mirror to pull out some hydrocortisone cream and a large hair clip.

You hold up your wrist with matching welts. "Our knight and his brethren were having poison ivy fueled bonfires every night. Turns out his sword was covered in it."

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Cameron interjects "They sound like regular geniuses." Her comment drips with sarcasm.

"Could be worse, the team was convinced his rash was caused by MRSA for the better part of the afternoon. When I broke out, I knew it ruled out MRSA. The poison ivy, especially once aerosol, caused part of his symptoms which led us on a wild goose chase. We've ruled out autoimmune. It's gotta be something environmental, so we're back to treating for trichinosis because our best guess at this point is he ate some bad meat."

"I, for one, don't think it was bad meat, or he'd not be the only one sick. But I do agree it has to be something environmental."

Nodding in agreement you watch her twirling her long hair as she positions it into a heap on the top of her head and secures it with the clip to prevent wetting it in the shower. She's not one for wearing her hair completely up. Ponytails are the norm in the ER; she mostly wore it down when she was working on your team. There was an elegance to the look, reminding you she could live on her beauty alone. Yet she defies your theory that no one works harder than they have to, choosing a daunting and rather dirty profession. Spending her days dealing with gross sights, sounds and bodily fluids. A job that also requires brains every bit as impressive as her tight little ass.

Stepping in the shower, she offers a hand to you. "You coming?"

Taking her hand, she steadies you as you lift your good leg over first and take time to sure your footing and grab the support rail on shower wall with your other hand, before bringing in your damaged leg.

She didn't know you before the infarction; a time when getting in the shower wasn't a treacherous prospect. Aside from the few months after your recovery from being shot, she has only known you as a cripple. In moments like this, it bothers you, your confidence peels away revealing parts of you that you are terrified to share. How can someone as near to physical perfection as Cameron want you; a broken old man? You have no answer for this, and you hate not having answers more than anything. Yet, she obviously does want you, so you determine to continue to solve the puzzle.

It's a struggle for your fragile emotional state, but in these moments, you work to remind yourself of the ways you deserve her, another thing born of your therapy.

She loves your mind, and your acerbic wit. Loves that you save people who can't be saved, though she doesn't believe your motives are purely based on an addiction to puzzle solving, despite your constant attempts to convince her. She believes in you as a person.

You please her sexually.

But at some point, despite your combined sexual creativity, there will be things that you just can't physically do and, even if you could, the sex euphoria won't last forever.

Things beyond sex, like taking long walks, a hike in the woods, a run in the park, all out of the question. It eats away at your resolve and reminds you of all the reasons you pushed her away for more than six years. You convinced yourself you couldn't love her for reasons that a normal man would find as reason to love her.

Insecurities are drawing you back in.

Sensing your sudden vulnerability, she kisses you. You don't respond at first, but she persists in placing gentle kisses on you as the water from the shower soaks your back and heats your body. Relenting, you begin to lightly return her kisses and allow your fears to wash away with the sensation of warm water and warm lips.

Feeling your body relax again, she shifts her focus to the task of getting you both clean. Grabbing a thankfully neutral smelling soap, she begins lathering your shoulders and chest and continues her differential "I'm thinking a toxin maybe, or poison of some kind. These guys seem pretty deep in the role play thing. Who knows what kind of other medieval shit they do beyond bonfires and sword fights. Have you sent someone to his home?"

"Are you sure you don't wanna come back to the team? Cuddy's not going to give me any more budget, but I can pay you in sex. Of course, Thirteen might get jealous, so..."

In a swift motion, she playfully attacks your face with the soap, making sure to rub suds all over your mouth. Your taste buds are attacked by the flavor, and you lay your head back under the shower head in an effort to rinse away the bitter taste.

"Too bad I can't wash out your dirty brain."

"You like it dirty."

Quickening your pace, you both finish showering without more play. Fluffy towels hang on a rack just outside the tub, and you grab one securing it around your waist, taking the other to begin drying Cameron. Before you can get frisky, she grabs the towel, wraps it around her and climbs out of the tub, offering her hand again to aid your exit.

She heads back to the mirror and rubs the condensation away with her forearm. Dabbing hydrocortisone on her rash, she fights the urge to scratch. "Damn, this itches now that I am not in the throws of passion."

"We could skip dinner and go again. Usually I don't care about treatment, because treatment is boring, but if the treatment is sex, that's different."

"As tempting as that is, I have to admit I am curious about Sam. And I know that Not-so-little Greg will still be up to the task after dinner." Her modified pet name for your penis makes you chuckle. You know you are above average in that department, but she enjoys reminding you.

You both finish drying and toss your towels back over the rack to dry. Cameron heads back to the bedroom and you follow closely behind, enjoying the show of her freshly-washed naked body. "He'll be very up for the task if you wear that short little red number I saw in your closet the other day, especially if you toss in those fuck-me-from-behind heels."

You walk over to your suitcase and toss it on the bed and began rooting through it looking for clean underwear, socks and your toiletry bag. Cameron, noticing for the first time that you've packed more than one change of clothes, smiles, then pulls out the aforementioned dress.

"I thought you'd like this one. My sister-in-law helped me pick it out last time I visited her and my brother in New York. She told me I needed to get out and play the field again and took me on a shopping spree." She walks to the bed and lays the dress across the foot of the bed, before heading to her dresser, hopefully to select something fun to go underneath.

Stepping behind her, letting the front of your body press against her back you tease her. "Remind me to thank her when I meet her. Did she also help you find a naughty thong to go with it?"

"You never gave it back." Her comment makes you smile. You have no intention to ever return that thong, no matter how tempting she may look in it. Another pair will have to do. Reaching around her, much like you used to do years ago in the lab, you let your breath fall on the nape of her neck. Her still up-dressed hair leaves her flesh exposed and you graze your beard against it as you examine the contents of her drawer. A red and black number catches your eye. The waistband is about two inches thick, in black lace and black seams outline a red lace front panel. There is a little girly bow in the front, where the black and red lace meet. The juxtaposition of something so sweet and innocent on top of transparent lace panties strikes you as the perfect personification of your girlfriend.

"These will do." Laying them in her hand, concentration returns to getting dressed.

Managing to stay focused, you exit her apartment by 8:05. Acceptably late, given the circumstances. There was a short debate on driving separately to avoid an accidental outing, but in the end you both decide to just stay on the lookout and enter and exit the club separately. She hands her keys to you as you walk to her car. Stopping on the passenger side, you open the door, earning a smile from her.

Her hair is down now, light curls framing her face and hiding the rash on her neck. Her lips are adorned in a lipstick shade to match her dress. It reminds you so much of the fundraiser years ago, when another red dress and those same red lips nearly melted your resolve. Her hair was a cascade of chocolate curls then. You sometimes miss how her dark hair contrasted against her pale skin. Not that you don't like her blond hair. Both shades suit her, both are beautiful, but there is something about brunettes that really does it for you.

The dress is form-fitting, a solid red sleeveless slip that covers her body, with a layer of matching red lace covering it that continues over her shoulders to form long, sheer sleeves that stop at her wrists. The hem was just past her mid-thigh, leaving little of her long legs to the imagination. Her heels, at least three inches longer than anything she'd wear to work, make her much taller and angle the curve of her ass seductively. Before she can climb into the car, you grab her ass hard, causing her to squeal and smack at your hand. "Hey! That hurt."

"You should know better than to trust me around that ass. Especially in that dress, with those heels."

"Didn't the prostitutes teach you not to damage the merchandise?"

"We could retire off the money men would pay to fuck your merchandise, but there are a few rules I'll need to teach you as your pimp. Firstly, the biting thing is hot, but a working girl would have never marked a customer without permission; it's bad for business."

"Maybe I just wanted to make sure they know you're someone else's property." She says as she slips into her seat.

"I think you have the roles of pimp and ho reversed. Good thing you're not sleeping with Foreman; I'm sure he'd have issues with being branded as property. I, on the other hand, embrace my role as your sex slave." Closing the door with a playful lear, you amble over to the driver's side and climb in.

"Seriously, Allison; you look amazing."

"Thank you" She's blushing. "You're not so bad yourself. I'm still in shock that you own an ironed shirt."

Starting the car, you wink to her, but your voice takes a more quiet and serious tone. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

* * *

Rolling up to the club you let Cameron out on the curb, just in front of the main door, before you drive around the block and find some street parking near the alleyway that leads to the rear entrance. The back door is normally used by only staff and musicians, but you're known there so they'll let you sneak in. Standing by the door, smoking cigarettes and passing a joint are a few of the kitchen staff and a couple of musicians. You recognize Stephan Smith, a local pianist of some renown. He leads the Blue Whisper house trio and you've spent a few nights hanging out with him after hours, talking shop. He waves to you as you walk up and you join in the smoking circle.

"Smoke?" He asks you, offering the joint to you. You take a hit, and hold your breath nodding a thank you and passing it on as you suppress your need to cough out the smoke for as long as you can. Finally exhaling, you cough out "Good shit."

"Smoke?" He asks again, this time offering a Camel brand tobacco cigarette, which you consider taking for a moment, before finally declining. "Better not. Hot date tonight. I don't want to leave her waiting too long."

"Solid. Hey man, there's a jam session after the gig tonight. Come sit in."

"Rain check. You'll have to be wowed by my musical prowess another night. I've got lots of sex to get in before bed."

You shouldn't be smoking weed while on antidepressants. Hell, you shouldn't drink, but you'll be damned if you are giving up all of your vices. It's been since before Mayfield that you've smoked marijuana. It's not that you were avoiding it, but you're not making a habit of looking for drugs, even something as benign as pot. But no need to pass up a perfectly good opportunity. Considering Stephan is practically a professional smoker, his offerings are always very potent. The single hit starts warming you, making your head feel just a little lighter and your skin feel more sensitive to sensation.

The alley door enters into a small storage/green room which leads to another door which opens near the stage. Walking in, your olfactory senses are bombarded with the smell of artificial orange scent — from a spray the musicians use to attempt to mask the pot smell — mixed in with the smell of 20 years of cigarette and pot smoke, musty old instruments and second hand furniture.

Exiting the room, you are greeted with the more pleasant smells of cooking meats and spices. You make your way to the back of the club, to the booth Wilson reserved. The club is dark with candles providing mood lighting at each table, the only overhead lights in use are focused around the stage. Your booth is wedged into a nook just off to the side of the wet bar, away from the tables that cover the main floor in front of the stage. It doesn't offer a great view of the stage, but good music isn't about being seen anyway.

As you approach the table you see Wilson, Sam and Cameron have settled in with drinks and are making small talk. Some tapas had been ordered and delivered. A scotch neat is waiting on the table for you as well.

"Good of you to join us." Your best friend greets with sarcasm.

You slide into the booth alongside Cameron, across from Wilson, your heightened senses overly aware of her body heat as you settle in next to her, a little closer than you would normally consider in public. "Looks like you've met Sam. Hopefully you didn't get into a catfight over her ogling me naked, but if you do decide to, please let me reserve a mud ring first. Now that would be my idea of a hot double date."

Both he and Cameron give you twin admonishing glares as Wilson says to Sam "You'll have to excuse him. He has impulse control issues."

Cameron's not really pissed. You can read her body's lie. "Be a good boy, House, or no dessert for you. And I know how much you've been looking forward to it."

The innuendo just turns you on more, and in your lightly buzzed brain, you decided to test just how far she'll take this in front of Sam. It's one thing flirting front of Wilson, she's been his friend just as long as she's been yours. In some ways, maybe they were closer friends. But in front of Sam, which side of Cameron will win out? You need to find out now that the question has been formed in your mind.

"Yes Mistress; I'll try to be good." You place your hand on her thigh, and start slowly sliding your fingers under her hemline, in an obvious sign you have no intention of being a good boy.

Her look focuses on you and turns from slightly annoyed to sexually charged. "I'd offer to punish you in other ways, but you seem to enjoy that too much."

Yes, she's right. You very much enjoyed your punishment today.

"But, denying me dessert means you also get no dessert. Maybe a spanking would be more appropriate?"

A very frustrated Wilson chimes in. "Hey guys, other people in the booth, right over here."

He would ruin your fun. You pout at him, about to insert a smart-assed remark about just enjoying the show when Sam interjects, teasing Wilson, "Actually, I think it's kind of funny watching you blush. You really have this sort of torchured-school-boy-who-walked-in-on-his-parents-having-sex look that is just priceless." which makes you laugh.

Wilson rolls his eyes in mock frustration at Sam. "Oh, thanks. All House needs is another enabler at the table."

That comment seems to break the ice and Cameron and Sam settle into small talk easily while you and Wilson sip your drinks and devouring bites of bacon wrapped chorizo-filled dates and lamb meatballs. You didn't know you had the munchies until you ate your first bite, but as the flavors invaded your tastebuds, you began making quick work of the small bites before you. You order a few more tapas offerings and, at some point around the time the music starts, Cameron starts telling the group about the types of crazy things she has had to extract from people's rectums in the ER.

"Yeah, no lie. Tongs. They somehow thought that would be a good way to remove the vibrator they lost up there. I have pics of the x-rays on my phone if you want to see. I'm hoping to at least place at the next Emergency Medicine conference's 'extraction challenge' with them." Cameron fishes her phone from her purse, pulls up the image and passes it to Sam and Wilson.

Sam, who unwisely decides to take a drink in that moment nearly snorts back out her nose upon viewing the image. "This is fantastic! And I've seen some pretty unbelievable things shoved into orifices in my time. I work as a radiologist. I think the craziest I've ever seen show up on an x-ray was a jar of instant coffee. What on earth were they trying to accomplish there? At least I am spared the extraction process. I am not sure I even want to know how you got these out." Sam laughs, head shaking no, as she hands the phone back to Cameron.

You enjoyed seeing Cameron like this. She was so at ease with people; everyone liked her. Feeling a smile spread over your features as you listened to this ridiculous small talk that only a table full of doctors could possibly find appropriate while stuffing their faces with appetizers, you felt the scrutiny of Wilson in your periphery. Glancing up at him, his face covered in what can best be described as a shit-eating grin. Cocking your head to the side, you question him "What?"

"I just haven't seen you like this in… well, I'm not sure when." He shakes his head and takes a drink, still grinning ear to ear.

"I'm happy for you, House." His comments seem lost on the two giggling women beside you who have moved on from strange objects found in various body caverns, to unbelievable things men get stuck around their penises. ER might be diagnostically boring, but it did make for more humorous dinner conversation.

Seen you like what? You wonder about Wilson's comments. Your left brain gears back up again. It had been dulled by your buzz, but with each bite, your high was tapering off.

What are your symptoms? You write them out on the whiteboard in your mind.

You feel lighter, and not just because of the pot.

Your leg always hurts, but currently the pain is as far to the background as it gets.

Your cheeks actually feel a bit tired from smiling.

You are having fun doing something other than work, with someone other than just Wilson.

You are... happy. The symptoms fit.

The revelation is equally comforting and frightening. You've wondered many times if being happy was even something that you could be anymore. Sure, there were moments of life not completely sucking. Moments hanging out with Wilson, watching TV together or going to monster truck rallies, cooking dinner together, knowing that at least one person in the world accepts you and likes you despite your crash nature. Actually, you are fairly sure he likes you because of it.

Before Mayfield, before Lydia, you thought that the person who said 'It was better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all.' had to be the world's biggest moron. You had gone out on the limb with her, and like you knew it would going in, the limb broke. It hurt, but you had survived it, and somehow come out better on the other side. It's the first time, maybe the only time, in your life that being hurt gave you hope that things could be better. You didn't fall of the edge of the cliff. You stayed the course, got healthy, got back your license, your job.

Now you are here with Cameron. Something you hadn't even considered for the longest time. You're happy in this moment. You know she loves you; she always has. She has jumped in accepting the fact that you'll eventually hurt her, probably more than once, unabashedly brave. You thought she was a naive little girl for it six years ago, now you envy her ability to love so freely. She has been hurt many times, but it doesn't stop her from signing up again and again.

Just like Wilson.

She may even trust you more than Wilson sometimes. You hadn't had to spy on her, manipulate her, trick her into trusting you. Hell, the fact you're thinking of trust in terms of trickery is exactly why she shouldn't trust you. You've done these things to people over and over; as if armed with enough information and the perfectly crafted situation you could nail down the equation on a stable relationship.

But, despite their likable natures, there was a loneliness to them as well. Their natural attraction to doing the right thing opens up different doors to the same lonely room you frequent. Yet, tonight, they both seem happy. Laughing, loving, both open to a person who's damaged them in the past. Forgiving of it. Open to the possibility of being hurt again, but not because of some sort of selfish delusion or competition like you had been when you wanted a second chance with Stacy.

Stacy. You are more like Cameron and Wilson than you care to admit when you compare in terms of Stacy. You hadn't failed there because of a lack of love. She loved you, you loved her. But that hadn't been enough. Why? It is an old puzzle you still haven't solved. One that slowly drove you to the brink.

Convincing yourself that you needed to solve the puzzle before you could ever try again at love had been second nature. It's how you're wired. How many opportunities had Cameron given you, had Cuddy given you? And not just them, other random women you've brought home from bars, hell, from clinic duty would have been willing at something more than sex.

You couldn't let down your guard again, not until you figured out how it had gone so horribly wrong. The infarction was the catalyst, but Stacy was right, you brought your work, your puzzles, home. She was very often forced to share your attentions. Maybe it would have helped if she had been a doctor. Maybe not. It's not like your epiphanies come to you while talking about the case. Most of the time a random word or action, in a conversation about something else completely, triggers the answer.

You needed to practice mindfulness. That is what Nolan calls it. Being present in the moment, rather than always having a part of your mind solving your latest case, or composing a tune, or considering quantum mechanics, or whatever other interesting distraction comes your way. You're not sure it is even possible to turn off that part of your brain.

Fuck you are doing it again now. Stop fucking thinking so much.

"So, aside from eating breakfast in the buff, what kinds of things do you do for fun?" Making an attempt to bring you into the conversation, Sam tosses a typical small talk question your way. You suck at small talk; well, truthful or sincere small talk anyway.

"Well, for the last week I've enjoyed doing Doctor Cameron. Before that, a long list of working gals.

"Ouch! Cripple abuse!" Your comment earns you both an elbow in the ribs, and a kick under the table.

"Greg sucks at small talk. Trying to engage in some on our first date probably cost us about five years of mind-blowing, work inappropriate sex. Live and learn."

"Work inappropriate?" Sam is intrigued.

"I reported to him for over three years before moving on to the ER. We went on a date once maybe a year into my fellowship. It was kind of a disaster. So, let me help you out. Any of the following are safe bets for an engaging conversation: sex, of course; monster trucks; General Hospital; the L Word; lesbians in general; any reality show; the OC; 24; religion; drugs; music; the Jack Cannon novels; motorcycles; lacrosse; Stephen Colbert; classic british comedy; cooking; or if you want to get really deep, string theory."

"In fairness, I was talking about one of those things before being gang banged." You whine in response, secretly impressed with her knowledge of your interests outside of medicine and sex.

And she called you Greg. That shouldn't be surprising. She'd obviously introduced herself to Sam as Allison, and she and 'James' have slipped into the more informal use of first names. Still, it's a strange sensation around other people, after more than six years of being only House to her. It also currently has the pavlovian effect of making you think of her having an orgasm.

Sam jumps on a topic obvious excitement. "You're into Jack Cannon? I love Jack Cannon!"

"Yeah, Cam… Allison" you correct as your interest in the conversation builds, "gave me the first book for my birthday several years ago. I've been hooked since."

Much to Wilson's dismay, the ladies and you spend the better part of the next hour debating the various plot lines and love interests of a series of books with a target audience of largely 14 year old girls. By the end of the night you conclude that Sam isn't so bad. Maybe she and Wilson simply got the timing wrong. Wilson seems happier than he's been in a long time. You are happier than you've been since the eight weeks after your recovery from being shot, when you could walk, and even run, pain free and drug free.

Cameron's words from earlier in the day — Damn, was that just today? It seems like a lifetime ago. — ring in your head 'Chances are you'll both fuck it up and end back up alone together anyway, but at least it won't be because you were both too chicken shit to at least _try_ to have a relationship.'

A nagging voice in the back of your mind keeps repeating that 'people don't change.' Fuck it. Enjoy now.

By the end of the night, your meds, mixed with a few drinks, are getting the best of your night owl again, so Cameron drives home.

Home. There's an odd thought. You just thought of Cameron's place as home.

Tonight was fun and a reminder that you've spent so very little time with Cameron, as your girlfriend, as Allison, outside of the bedroom or the restricted confines of work. "We should take a few days off soon. Think you could use your department head powers to score this weekend off? As much as I'm enjoying the beginning of the relationship sex binge, we need to devote some time getting to know one another if we expect to make it past the honeymoon."

"I'd like that." She softly replies with a smile, keeping her eyes on the road. "One of my guys owes me for covering for him a couple of weeks ago, I'll text him tomorrow to see if he can return the favor. Think you'll have your case wrapped up by then?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But that is why I have a team. They can handle this. Right now we are more important than my case or the next ER influx of idiots with random objects lodged in their colons."

"Yeah. We are." She takes her right hand off the steering wheel to find your left and intertwines her fingers with yours and the rest of the drive home is spent in comfortable silence.


	9. Cutting to the Chase

Chapter 9: Cutting to the Chase

A smile creeps across your face as you awake to the smell of bacon and coffee. Your muscles beg for you to stretch and, as you do, you extend across the middle of the bed, running your right arm over where Allison had been when you fell asleep. Under your black t-shirt and boxer briefs, your body is sticky and both you and the bed smell of sex. Life feels good this morning.

Memories of the night before: The red dress pushed up around her waist, panties pushed down to her thighs, she stood, still in her heels, pressed against the wall as you entered her from behind, still fully clothed yourself. The way she moaned your name. The heat of her. The feel of her climax around you, as the buildup of fluid-pressure exploded in spurts inside of her. The unison throbbing.

Her sex is addictive and you are a natural born addict.

Rolling to the left, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and sit up, taking a few moments to rub down your right thigh. Reaching in the drawer, you fish out more Motrin and dry swallow three pills before standing up and limping to the bathroom.

Peeing takes longer this morning, thanks to your activities the day before. Being middle aged sucks for the plumbing, but at least that is one area of your life you seem to have better luck in than most men your age. Allison has no complaints. As you wait patiently for your prostate to decide it is ok to to go ahead and let you urinate, you wonder how long you'll be able to keep up this pace and when the sex inevitability tapers off to a normal level, what that will mean for your relationship.

Ahhhh, there we go. God, peeing can be damn near as good as sex sometimes. With a shake, a tuck and a flush, you finish and proceed to wash your hands as your body refocuses on the smells of breakfast that are assaulting your nostrils.

Your stomach begins to growl as you enter the living area. Allison is seated at the bar in her yoga pants, sports bra and tank top, a medical journal in one hand, sipping a cup of coffee from the other. Her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail. A plate with remnants of bacon, scrambled eggs and toast sit in front of her. She looks up as you approach to plant a kiss on her cheek. You take her chin, and gently angle her face to inspect her reddened and slightly blistered neck. Satisfied with her treatment of it so far, you tilt her head up and brush her lips gently with yours.

"This smells great, got any for me?" You say as you steal the last half slice of bacon from her plate and stuff it into your mouth.

"Yours is in the warming drawer. Have a seat, and I'll get it for you and make your coffee."

You could get used to this. Picking up the journal, you peruse through to see if something interesting catches your eye.

"Please tell me you'll do this every morning." You tease as she bends over to open the warming draw by the oven, which gives you an incredible view of her ass. Yoga pants could be a sign that you're wrong about God; there is nothing more sexy than a tight ass in yoga pants. Damn, and she isn't wearing panties.

"You want me to lie to you?" She says back looking over her shoulder, confirming that you are leering at her. God, she's being a prick-tease on purpose, and you love it.

"All successful relationships are built on lies." And fucking hot yoga pants. Can't forget those.

"Then, yes, I'll do this every morning." She says as she sets a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of you with a fork and a napkin, then pops two slices of bread in the toaster on the way to the coffee maker. She pours and doctors your brew, and waits for the toast to pop up.

"But to be fair, I kinda liked naked breakfast, I'd hate to give that up. I didn't have to cook _and_ I got eat my favorite kind of sausage covered in real maple syrup." She says with a sparkle in her blue-grey eyes, placing the toast on your plate, and handing you your coffee and brushing your fingers lightly on the hand-off.

In an exaggerated motion, your free hand wraps around your chin, one finger taps on your cheek, as your eyes look up to the ceiling sarcastically feigning deep thought. "You're right. We should rethink this; maybe set up a rotation." Turning your focus to the breakfast before you, you take a sip of coffee and begin eating.

Falling into a domestic routine is easy for you. It also scares the hell out of you, which is why you've spend so much of your lifetime fighting it. Because it is too easy. Too easy to let your guard down, and open yourself for the eventual break that all of your relationships seem to demand. Wilson being the only hold out, but even he has threatened to break off your friendship his fair share of times. You're needy, abrasive, and high maintenance; it's not the most endearing combination.

One week. That is how long it took for you to move in with Stacy. You made it five years. Who knows how much longer, if fate had been kinder to your leg. Maybe you'd be married now, with a couple of kids, maybe you were doomed no matter what. You are always left with 'What if my damned leg hadn't gotten in the way?' and you'll never have the answer. You're finally learning to live with that and move on.

One week. That is how long it took for Allison to give you a key. You already feel at home. Her apartment sucks, but you like the idea of being here with her, like this. She let you in after one week. Chase hardly stayed at her place for a year. You feel like you should reciprocate but your current home is Wilson's and he's going to be having Sam over more now. Doubt he's going to want his place turned into a the equivalent of a college dorm with two horny couples living together. There is always your real home, but you don't want to go back there yourself. You're not sure you want memories of Allison mixed in with the memories of near overdoses, too many nights alone, so many nights with Stacy and one night imagined with Cuddy that had seemed so real.

No, you don't have anything to offer her in terms of sharing your home, because you don't really have a home you feel like you can share right now. Hopefully she gets that. Maybe this weekend you'll figure out how to talk to her about it. Your session with Nolan is this Friday. You'll be able to hash this out with him.

Allison has been busying herself cleaning up breakfast dishes as you eat, deep in your own thoughts. Taking your empty plate from you, she starts up a conversation. "So I talked to Jefferson this morning. He can cover for me this weekend, and got him to toss in Monday too in exchange for being on call tonight. Think you can swing getting a three day weekend from Cuddy?"

"I am sure I can think of something creative to tell her."

"Or you could just try the normal route, and put in a request form."

You roll your eyes at your girlfriend. "Request forms are boring."

Smiling, she closes the dishwasher, and pours herself another cup of coffee. Returning to the bar, to sit by you, she inquires "So what do you want to do this weekend?" Placing a hand on your inner thigh, just inches below your dick, she adds "Besides me." and lets one finger brush your manhood.

You mind is so willing, but you don't think your body is going to like you much later if you give in. Best to get going before things heat up and your prick decides it doesn't care if you kill it with sex. "Dunno, I'm sure we'll think of something. I've got to take a shower and get ready for work."

You kiss her and try not to deepen it. Then get up to prepare for work.

* * *

Back at the hospital your team has ruled out trichinosis. Their constant insistence that it can't be environmental, when every bit of your gut is telling you it is, begins to flare your temper. It doesn't help that your leg is beginning to have pain shoot through it again. You're tuning out most of what they are suggesting as you reach into your pocket and pull out your ibuprofen and take two more, despite the three you took this morning.

Kidneys failing, blah blah, cancer, fuck this useless train of thought. "Which one of you checked out the apartment?" You snap at them. "His symptoms fit an environmental..."

Speaking over you Foreman interjects "The test results don't. We redid…"

"Search the apartment." Walking away, you leave your team with their orders. Calling after you Thirteen argues "He hasn't been there in three weeks."

"Go! NOW!" Turning you give them a hard look and reaffirm your order.

Your day grinds on, you manage to avoid the clinic, you steal some lunch from the doctor's lounge fridge and eat it alone in your office. Foreman and Taub bring you some test results showing some strange non-cancerous cysts on his liver. The puzzle deepens.

Chase and Thirteen returned in the afternoon with a box load of goodies from the apartment. Cameron was right, this guy is into some freaky medieval shit. But which of these things could cause the symptoms? You rack your brain for an answer as you subconsciously spin a pencil lead in your mouth.

Wait, lead.

Lead could cause all the symptoms. What are his little figurines made of?

As you wander over to the table to inspect them, Taub is suggesting the cysts could be focal hepatic lesions that are bursting over time releasing more and more of the toxin into his bloodstream. That does make sense and matches your environmental theory. You take out your pocket knife as you sit and use it to scrape the surface of a miniature knight.

You reveal your new theory to your team and they agree; it fits. Sending them off to do a biopsy, you head back to your office with half a mind to go home early. You sit at your desk and pull out your phone to call Cameron. She was probably still in bed, but you need to hear her voice, so you call anyway.

"What can I do for you House?" She answers, in her work tone, sounding awake. She always plays it safe when you call her, because it could be about work and no need to take the risk if someone is close enough to your phone to hear a more familiar greeting.

"Well, for starters, you can tell me what you're wearing. And please lie if you aren't in something from Victoria's Secret or naked."

"Rough day?"

"You have no idea. I think I'm coming home early; I need to take a bath and soak my leg. Would you mind running to the grocery? I promise I'll make it worth your while, and in more ways than one. I want to cook some ragu for dinner."

"I'd be happy to. Send me a list. I'll see you at home."

You hang up and email her the recipe you found a few days ago for lamb ragu, as well as the ingredients for your mother's soufflé, then stand up, gathering your things to head home.

You're calling it home again. It's not your place, but it's suddenly the place you feel you belong. Cameron is so open to you. She hasn't asked you to move in, but you know that the key was as good as the question. She isn't going to make the first move with words again. You hurt her when she opened up to you years ago, and she learned her lesson. She has put the ball in your court. In truth it's been there for years, you've just now decided that it was time to play with it.

As always, in her actions, she tells you everything. She loves you. She needs you. She gets off on you. She wants you to stay at her place. She likes you, which is the hardest for you to understand, because you aren't exactly likable. She wants and needs to take care of you and is acutely aware of your pain and helps you manage it.

That is the part you had trouble getting past before. She is still young and beautiful, it seems like an unfair thing to ask of her. But you're starting to see you're an idiot. Is it such a bad thing that she needs to take care of someone? You need to be taken care of. You're finding it works, for both of you, so you keep telling yourself to roll with it.

Back at home you run a hot bath and soak away as much pain as you can, which is never all of it. You'll settle for a dull throb anytime. Laying your head back to doze, you lose track of time until you hear the door and rumbling in the kitchen. You consider getting out, but the water is still reasonably warm, so you continue to hold out even though your skin is beginning to prune.

You can hear footsteps coming down the hall, and you look up to the door just as Cameron turns in the door frame, then leans against it with her arms folded. "Feeling any better?"

"Yeah, but it never stops completely. Wanna join me? The water isn't hot, but it is still warm."

"It's tempting, but you're pruning, and I need a nap. My sleeping schedule is all screwed up. Remind me never to start another relationship while working the night shift ever again. I got four hours in today, then couldn't fall back asleep after waking up to go to the bathroom."

"I hope you don't need to start another relationship at all, regardless your schedule."

"Careful House, I'll hold you to that." She saunters over to the tub and leans over to kiss you chastely. "You need some help?"

"Na, I've always managed. Go get ready for your nap. I'll be in a minute to get dressed, then I'll get out of your hair, and start prepping for the feast."

* * *

Cameron's kitchen sucks. Well at least compared to Wilson's. You have half a mind to pack up and drive over there to fix dinner just to have a decent knife. Despite the lovely breakfast this morning you are getting the distinct impression that you are the chef in the relationship. This isn't terribly surprising. Women that skinny generally don't have a passion for cooking, or they would have a little bit more to grab onto, even with the workouts.

Counter space is at a premium as well, but manageable. Screw it. You're too far in to move now.

Preparations move along, and as you lower the sauce to simmer, there is a knock at the door. You wonder for a moment if you should answer or not. The lights are on, and the shades are still open. No real hiding if someone is nosey enough to look in. The knock comes again, and you decide you might as well at least look out the peep-hole.

A wave of dread washes over you when you see Chase on the other side of the door, looking out toward your Dynasty, and raising his cell phone to his ear. You lay your forehead against the door, trying to decide what to do, when the familiar tones of Hanson ring out loudly from your pocket.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your brain repeats as you open the door and put on your nonchalant face.

"Chase! What brings you to Chateau Cameron this fine evening?"

Disconnecting his phone, and placing it in his pocket as he turns to face you, and replies "House." There is a sense of something in his voice. Disappointment, maybe. Dread? He looks, upset, but under control.

Looking down for a second, he tries to collect his thoughts. You wait, not sure what you should say. With a deep sigh he continues. "I'm not sure I even want to… Is Allison home? I was in the neighborhood and I wanted to drop off a few things of hers I found at my place and talk to her about something." He holds up a bag, for emphasis.

"Sleeping." He gives you an odd look. "Night shift. She'll be up soon." Another awkward pause, and you make a decision. "Want to come in? I'm sure she's going to want to talk to you now. I always make extra, if you wanted to stay for dinner." Opening the door farther, you step aside to allow him entrance.

"Um, well... thanks? So, ah, you and Cameron… how long?" He says, again with a hint of dread in his voice, as he sits the bag down on her couch, and takes his light jacket off, laying it on the couch as well, before walking toward the kitchen bar. Cameron had told you, he may assume you are the reason she broke up with him.

"Just over a week. You want a beer? Wine?" You offer as Chase takes a seat at the bar. You continue on into the kitchen to tend your sauce and finish up the meal.

"I'll have a beer, I guess. So, a week dating, or living together?" He's still not convinced, you think, opening the fridge, you grab a beer and hand it to Chase. Then start milling around the cabinets looking for a pot big enough to cook pasta.

Finding one, you answer "Dating. Look, if you're thinking we were..., while the two of you were..., the answer is no." then start filling it with water.

"Not that either of you would tell me if you were; like you say everybody lies. But either way, glad to hear it; I guess. Not that it matters now anyway." He looks away, taking a healthy drink from the bottle.

"Com'on Chase. Cameron wouldn't have cheated on you. She's too nice and considerate of other people's feelings and would have been guilt ridden." Well, you know that means very little, Wilson is all of those things, and he has issues keeping it in his pants. You've had an affair with two very nice (maybe not as terminally nice as Cameron, but still) married women (that you know of). But it sounds reassuring.

Chase gives you a 'yeah right' look, and leading you to believe this topic must have been on his mind most of the relationship. Poor guy; you actually feel bad for him having be on the losing side of the love triangle many times.

"You know, I had my suspicions when she left the team with no warning a month ago. Cameron never makes a move like that without a reason." If you could only get Chase to be that observant about everything, you muse.

Dinner is nearly ready and you suppose it would be better if you warn her, before she walks in to find you and Chase in her kitchen making small talk. "Speaking of Cameron, I'm just going to go wake her. I'm not sure she'll appreciate walking in on our male bonding without a warning."

You hobble down the hallway to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, you lay a hand on Allison's arm and gently shake her awake. She stretches out, then sits up removing her blinders and earplugs. "What, no navel-orgasm appetizers tonight?" She teases with a pouty face, then her attention turns to the smell of dinner that is permeating the tiny apartment. "Damn, Greg, that smells fucking amazing."

You thank her with a quick smile, then thumb back toward the kitchen. "We've got company for dinner."

"Wilson?"

"No, but I'll give you a hint. He's on my team, grew up riding kangaroos, and up until about ten months ago was riding y..."

She groans overtop the 'you' before you can finish your sentence, "Oh, shit. Chase. How...? Why...?" her head falling to her hands.

"He just showed up. I guess he came by to drop off something of yours he found, saw my car next to yours, then called my phone when no one answered the door right away, and given that I was standing right behind the door when 'Mmmbop' started playing, I figured 'what the hell, he knows now' and opened the door." She falls back against the pillows, and stares at the ceiling, then folds her her arm over her eyes. Still oozing displeasure from being outed.

"He seems to be taking it well. I mean, it's not like he walked in on us fucking in the storage closet." She glares at you peeking out from under her forearm, then punches you in the shoulder for your tease. You flinch just a little more than is warranted for dramatic effect, then roll your eyes at her.

"Come on. You have to admit that was a pretty good one." You continue to tease her, trying to lighten her mood, but failing, you give in to being serious. "He's having a beer and I asked him to stay for dinner, because I knew you'd want to talk to him."

"Dammit. I had this planned out. I'd ask him for a drink after work; break the news gently, talk it out, he'd have the night to recover before having to talk to you." Sitting back up, she swings her legs to the side of the bed and stands up. "I need to get dressed. Go on back out. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay." You stand up beside her and take her chin and gently turn her head to face you.

"Allison, don't worry so much, and stop clenching. He's not exactly surprised. I know you don't want to hurt him, but he's stronger than you're giving him credit for, and he's not an idiot."

She smiles at your compliment of her ex. It's no secret you like him and respect him in your way. And Allison does still likes him, even if she isn't in love with him. She's wired to try to ease the pain of others, and because she's so empathetic, their pain becomes hers. You can't help but kiss her, and as you lift your lips from hers you add "Also, if you ever tell him, or anyone else, I said that, I'll cut you off from all oral pleasures."

"I wouldn't dream of defaming you in such a way. I'm afraid I've become addicted to your tongue."

She's kissing you again, taking another taste of her drug.

A timer goes off in the kitchen and you break the kiss. "That's my cue." Leaving her to get dressed, you head back to the kitchen to finish the meal. "Hey Chase, help a cripple out and take the soufflé out of the over!" You yell down the hall, putting your guest to work.

You get to the kitchen just as Chase is setting the first two ramekins on the cooling tray. He takes the second two out and deftly closes the oven door with his foot, from behind his back, before placing the last two ramekins on the tray.

Joining him in the kitchen, he says to you "It's so weird that you cook. Thirteen mentioned you'd taken it up while you were thinking of leaving diagnostics, and that you're really good at it."

"I am a man of many talents." You start to make an innuendo, but quickly decide to exercise some level of self control. You're sure you'll eventually not hold any punches with comments about your sex life, but tonight doesn't seem like the time to press your luck.

"Yeah, well, it's probably a good thing. Allison has about four dishes she makes well, other than that, she's shit in the kitchen."

God, he's not going to make this easy. What you want to say is 'but she's oh so good at cooking in the bedroom' but what you say instead is "So long as she maintains her superior barista skills, I think I am ok with being the the master chef. Besides, there's always takeout."

"Wow, you must really like her, House. I opened a huge door there for a sexual comment and you didn't even bite a little." Chase teases you, enjoying seeing you squirm for a change.

"Yeah well, you've seen her naked, so you should know better than to judge." You pout back. Still not willing to let loose and face the wrath of Cameron.

"God no. I get it. It's just weird, is all." You both laugh at this, because yes, it is kind of weird. On some level, Chase seems relieved, as if he's always known this was inevitable. When you lost Stacy the second time around, you went through the gambit of emotion. You immediately hated Mark, but you couldn't not diagnose him. Then, you couldn't hate him, because you understood his pain and in the end, you were ok with it, because you knew that, as much as you loved Stacy, she needed Mark and Mark needed her.

Maybe the same was true for Chase. Cameron never hid her torch for you, even after her and Chase started the 'fuck buddy' stage of their relationship. The flirtation was always there. It had to suck for him to know that all it would take to break his relationship, was for you to return Cameron's attentions in more than jest. Love is blinding that way. It worms its way in, and overtakes the logical regions of the brain. You've done crazy things for it.

"Hey." Cameron says to Chase as she enters the room.

"So, you finally landed House huh?" He teases as he swivels his stool toward her and enjoys watching her squirm a bit. You have mixed feelings about it.

"Yeah. Look Robert, I was going to talk to you. I just wanted to give it a little time first, see how things went before making it awkward for all of us at work. I'm sorry you had to find out this way." She places a hand on his arm, and he places his over hers. Then glancing awkwardly in your direction, both hands drop.

"It's fine Allison. Really. We're not together, we're not going to be. I get that. I'm not really even that surprised." He takes another drink from his beer, and turns back toward the bar, and Cameron takes the seat beside him.

"I'm glad. So House, said you had something of mine you were dropping off?"

"Yeah, I found some of your old yearbooks and a couple of your medical school textbooks when I was cleaning out the storage closet. And I wanted to talk to you about something else. But that can wait until after dinner. I hope you don't mind if I stay. House invited me, and it does really smell pretty amazing. I'm still in shock that he has any sort of domestic talents. I figured that was all Wilson's department."

The two start falling into a friendly banter you hadn't seen between them for a while. As if the thing festering between them had finally come to a head, and once the pressure was released, the wound was suddenly free to heal. Of course the topic of banter also comes at your expense.

"You are going to lose that bet Chase. Wilson is soo not the bottom of their relationship." She gets up and walks past you to the fridge to grab a drink for herself and gives you a playful wink, earning another eye roll from you.

"I suppose you're in a position to know all about it now." Chase, for his part is all too happy to continue the line of conversation. God dammit, they're the ones who started the betting pool, it dawns on you. They did learn from the master, of course.

"A lady never tells." She, pinches your ass, on the comment. This is your payback for playing nice? Getting your ass pinched in front of one of your fellows, who is also your girlfriend's ex, no less!

Time for the master to put an end to this. "She does look great in the strap-on we had molded from Wilson's cock. Now that he's back playing on the other team for a while, Allison has been all to happy to satisfy my need for back-door love."

You time your comment perfectly with Allison's first drink, and she nearly spits it out. Chase looks mortified at the mental image, and is now shaking his body in disgust. Point, set, match House.

"Okay, dinner just became way less appealing." Chase grumbles, then turns back to Cameron, who is caught somewhere between wanting to laugh or cry. "But at least he's not acting all weird and caring now."

The three of you laugh at this. The whole conversation is ridiculous. It has to be one of the oddest things you've been witness too, but in so many ways you are relieved. Allison, had been genuinely concerned over how Chase would take the news. It had to have been an open wound in their relationship. You aren't even jealous over Chase, which speaks volumes. The reverse was likely not true when they had started dating, but he seems to be happy to just have things resolved now.

Chase respects you. He enjoys working for you. You respect him, especially now, after coming back to the team. As much as the whole situation seems fucked up on the surface, the truth of it is, all three of you benefited having things play out just as they did.

Dinner passes pleasantly. The three of you have know each other for so long, conversation just falls in a grove, as if the relationship dynamic has always been this way. Maybe because on some level it has always been this way. You had always imagined that once Cameron was over you, she and Chase would ride off into the sunset and be the world's prettiest couple and breed the world's most beautiful children, with the world's best hair. But logic never seems to have a place in the messy world of emotions.

Children. There's a topic. Cameron has given evidence on numerous occasions that she wants a family, with all the trimmings. You had wanted more with Stacy, just before the infarction fucked your life. Cuddy has a daughter and it didn't stop you from pursuing her. Sure you didn't have any real feelings for the kid one way or the other, but you had assumed that would work itself out over time, even if it scared the hell out of you.

Shit, if you are really honest with yourself, it only put you off because you are jealous you didn't father a child with Cuddy. If she would have asked you, you would have donated your sperm without question when she was attempting IVF. How many hints does a man have to make without coming out and just saying, 'I think you should use my sperm, because you should know your child's father, oh and I think I love you.'

Knowing that her attempts all ended in early miscarriage, it is probably a good thing that she didn't ask. It is hard enough working for someone you think you are in love with. Losing a child with them, even if it wasn't going to technically be yours, wouldn't have helped either of you.

You are quite aware that everyone around you doesn't think you want or like children. And they are right on a surface level. Having kids is not on your I-need-this-to-complete-me list. But it only seems natural to imagine having them when you think of the women you've loved. It is a biological imperative to procreate.

You're so much older now, than when you'd considered talking to Stacy about it. You were kind of late to the game then at 40. Now you're 50; a month away from 51. If you knocked Allison up tomorrow, you'd be nearly 70 seeing them off to college. Allison, on the other hand is primed at 30. Biologically, she's even a bit passed the prime age to start, but still far from being at a risky age.

You can imagine her belly swollen in pregnancy, and god she would be beautiful even then. Especially with mommy tits. Just as you are considering what you'd like to do to them, you are drawn back into the after dinner conversation as Chase starts to explain the second reason for his surprise visit.

"So I had another reason I stopped by, and I guess it is kinda good that both of you are here, because it actually involves both of you. I was putting some things into the safety deposit box, and I realized it's still a joint box, but more importantly I came across our medical proxy forms in there and I thought it was probably time that we talked about changing our proxies from one another. It just seems a little awkward now, to ask you to make medical decisions for me and vice versa."

"Yeah. You're right. I hadn't really given it much thought since we first did it, but it would be an awkward situation to place you in. Especially now." Cameron replies, gears suddenly spinning fast enough to make steam come out of her ears. Then Chase turns to you.

"So, this is where you come in. I was going to ask you if you'd be willing to be my proxy? I mean, I totally understand now if you don't want to do it, given the circumstances. I just don't have any family, and I trust your medical opinion more than anyone's."

Interesting. You are not sure what to make of the puzzle now. Then again, if you remove Allison from the equation, it isn't a shocking request. Chase doesn't have anyone here. He doesn't speak to his only sibling. His parents are dead. In a lot of ways you are a surrogate father to him.

God, that is just another strange reminder of the age gap with you and Allison. It's akin to stealing your son's girlfriend. Wilson is right, there is a sort of an incestuous element to the whole damned situation that you like to avoid thinking about.

Fuck, it's not like you'd let anyone else being his proxy stop you from interfering if something did happen to Chase. This just simplifies things. "Sure. I wouldn't want to make you have to settle for Foreman, Thirteen has an expiration date, and Taub is Taub."

Looking relieved, Chase lets out a breath. "Thanks House. That means a lot to me. I'll have the paperwork drawn up. Allison, just let me know when you settle things up for your proxy, just so I know I've been removed."

"I'll do that." She replies. Still with the gears turning. You suppose that is because now she has to decide if she should ask you now. It is a little soon to lay that on your boyfriend in a normal relationship, but yours is far from normal. You've know one another for a long time. She, like, Chase would trust her life to you. But she does have family options, but they aren't doctors, so not exactly prime choices for someone who knows that, in general, the patient's family are more or less just idiots in matters of medicine.

Chase stands up and motioning to the door, "So, I guess I'd better get out of here. Sorry for barging in and thanks for dinner." then walks to the couch and grabs his jacket. Allison follows him, and lays a hand on his shoulder.

"Robert, before you go, please do me a favor. Don't talk to anyone at work yet about this. We're still figuring things out and I'd rather do that without the gossip mill, or the input of our work friends. It's really no one's business, and until we decide to declare it to HR, I'd like to keep it that way."

Chase nods sympathetically, "Sure. I understand. It's not my secret to tell." then lets himself out.

Once the door is closed, and you feel he is far enough away to not overhear your conversation, you address the elephant in the room. "So you know, I am more than willing to be your proxy as well. It's not like I'm a normal new boyfriend."

"Yeah, I know. It just seems like a lot to lay on you a week in."

You walk over to her, and look her in the eye. "Allison, you know me. If anything happened to you, even if we hadn't started dating, the hospital would be hard pressed to stop me from getting involved, proxy or no. I'd just be forced to have to be jerk to someone in your family for being an idiot, because you know the family are always idiots."

"Careful what you say about families, if we do this, you'll be the family. You're not going to be able to also be my doctor. Even you know that you won't be objective. You can't be anymore." She's right, but you're still a better choice of idiot, and she knows it.

You place a hand on her cheek. "Allison. I want to do this. I want to take care of you. Please let me." 'I love you.' The words sound only in your mind. You aren't ready to say them aloud yet, but it's becoming clear that you do. You've spilled those words to her twice, and not meant them. It was just a way to get what you wanted, or to tease her. You've promised yourself the next time you say them, you'll be 100% sure that you mean them.

"Okay." She looks like she might cry. Damn women. Crying when they are sad, crying when they are happy. It breaks you and robs the situation of logic. You kiss her then take her hand and lead her to the bedroom because sex is the one way you can show your feelings and not feel awkward.

* * *

 _Notes: So my super cool beta, astavares pointed out to me there is some debate surrounding Cameron's age. I agree that this is younger than she should be, to realistically have gone to medical school and started with House when she did. In fact, the first script called for her to be older, but I guess at some point they went with JMo's real age. I got both their ages from the House MD Wiki._

 _Hope everyone is enjoying so far!_


	10. A Good Knight

Chapter 10: A Good Knight

Upon reaching the bedroom, she tugs your arm turning you to face her. "I think it's your turn." She raises on her tiptoes to kiss you. You lean in to aid her effort, and your tongues mingle, the taste of dessert still coloring the flavor of the kiss.

Pulling back down, she slips her hands under your shirt, lifting it over your head and dropping it to the floor. Her mouth is teasing your collar bone, travelling lower to your nipples, where she pauses to lick each flicking the tip of her tongue quickly over them then blowing on each making them harden. Smiling at her work, she continues lower kissing a trail to the opening of your jeans.

Positioning herself on her knees before you, she looks up and admires your body as she rubs you through the denim fabric. Making eye contact, you exchange wicked smiles as she unbuttons your pants, and slowly unzips your fly.

Spreading the opening, she pulls your underwear down, freeing your hardening cock. "I love your penis. It's beautiful." She says planting soft kisses on it as it twitches, filling with blood.

"I've heard my dick called many things, but this has to be the first time anyone has called it beautiful." You say playfully as you lightly finger her blond locks and watch the erotic scene unfolding before you.

"Well, it is. I especially like your birthmark." She traces over it lightly as you continue to grow, now nearly at full attention. "It's very unique and sexy. I also prefer my men to be uncut. That was a pleasant surprise. Most American men aren't… intact." She takes you in her mouth, which sends an overwhelming jolt of heat coursing through your abdomen. More blood rushes to your member causing it to become rock hard in her warm, wet mouth.

She pulls away with a plop, and looks up at you. "Greg, I want to suck you off." Licking you like a cone of soft serve, she continues "I want to take my time with you," another long lick "and then I want you to come in my mouth." She takes you all the way into her throat to make the point. Then back out again. "I want to give you the kind of attention you've been giving me."

Then she is sucking you again. Slowly. Looking up at you, you can see she enjoys having this power over you. You resist grabbing her hair and fucking her mouth hard, but it takes a great degree of willpower, instead placing a hand on her head. Fuuuck. Your legs are getting weak.

"Allison. Oooohh, fuck. Sstt. Ahhh… bed baby. I need to lie… oh shiiiiit yes… down."

Thrusting her head to you once more slowly, you can feel her lips, the ridges of the roof of her mouth, the texture of her tongue, as she takes you completely into her mouth down to the balls. Fuck. You know that is no easy task. Even the working girls can't always deep throat a man of your size, not to mention your girth. God, it's like she doesn't even have a gag reflex! A hum, causes you to shudder with waves of euphoria. Pulling away once more, she rises to her feet and leads you to the bed.

You finish disrobing before you sit down. She watches you as you pull yourself to the center of the bed, propping pillows against the headboard, and leaning back to sit up against them. Grabbing your cock, you start stroking it as she watches, and begins her own striptease.

Taking off her shirt and bra, she stops for a moment to tease her own nipples. She places a finger in her mouth, sucking on it, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. Removing it, she uses the wet digit to stroke one areola, then repeating the action for the other. Both nipples rise to full peeks and she pinches them both, causing her head to toss back as she enjoys her self-stimulation.

Now this is how you define beautiful. You love watching her. What man wouldn't; you're visual creatures.

Tracing a finger slowly down her body, she returns her eyes to yours. As she reaches her waistband, she slides her hand inside, letting it travel further south. Her eyes roll back and her mouth opens, indicating she has reached her goal. Her other hand, still attending her breasts.

You stop stroking for a moment and squeeze your cock as it throbs. You don't want to come yet. She wants you to come in her mouth and that is exactly what you plan on doing. The thought of her swallowing your seed turns you on. She has given you head several times, but you've always ended with sex. The idea of her getting off by orally gratifying you is so fucking hot you could come at the thought of it.

"Goddamn, Allison. You're so fucking beautiful. Get fucking naked. I want you to fuck yourself for me. I want to watch you suck my cock, while you give yourself an orgasm. Will you do that for me?"

You don't have to ask twice. Her eyes darken with lust as you tell her what you want. She makes short work of her pants and panties, and climbs in the bed straddling you. She leans down to kiss you, and you grab her ass as she does. Pulling her down, to rub her wet labia against the shaft of your cock, all the while careful to not enter her. She sucks in her breath at the contact, exhaling in a moan.

You release her a moment later and she begins licking her way down your torso, stopping suddenly. Just as you think she is going to take you into her mouth once more, she turns herself, placing her ass and pussy inches in front of your face. She places a finger between her folds and strokes slowly, giving you a front row seat to the show. Your focus turns to her glistening labia, just as a jolt of pleasure courses over you because she is sucking you once more.

You are taken aback by her strength again. Holding herself up over you with one arm, while she sucks you and fingers herself, is no easy task, but she performs like a pro. Her fingers move forward to her clit, circling fiercely. She is close, and so are you. Her support arm begins to shake so you slide one hand down her wet folds. "Let me finish you." You command and she places her both hands to the bed and sucks your cock like it is her life's work. You add your other hand, dipping your fingers inside her to find her g-spot. She's so close, you can feel her body tensing, her sucking becoming less focused and erratic as she comes for you. Seconds later your head tosses back as you explode inside her mouth, calling her name. Just as you do, she grabs the base of your cock and squeezes, controlling your ejaculation and extending your orgasm.

She swallows every drop, and it is the most amazing feeling.

Letting your penis fall from her mouth, she licks it lovingly a few more times before turning back around to lie next to you. She snuggles up to your left side, lays her head on your shoulder, and wraps a leg over your left leg. Running your fingers through her hair, you turn your head and plant a soft kiss on her crown. "I am serious about us being able to retire from prostituting you out. I couldn't even begin afford to pay for that quality of blowjob from a women as hot as you." You sincerely compliment her, in your House way. It's crass, but it's true.

"Who says I'm not already moonlighting for an early retirement? I mean, sex is way more fun than setting a broken bone, or extracting a coke bottle out of some idiot's anus." She willingly plays back with you. You love that she seems impossible to offend.

Continuing your teasing, you reply to her seriously. "It's not right for you to not cut in your pimp. There are rules for a reason, you know."

She laughs at you openly, making you smile. "Oh, now you care about the rules; besides, I thought I was paying you in sex?"

"Nooo, sex with the talent is part of the standard pimp benefit package. Sort of like, medical and dental plans. The standard financial split is 70/30, in the pimp's favor, of course. Oh and I get to set your price and have final say in who gets to hire you. Right now, no customers are even close to your league, so you'll just have to keep practicing on me, until I find a John who can afford you." In seriousness, you hope to be the last man she fucks. The thought of actually sharing her turns your stomach to knots.

She snuggles up against you and rubs her still wet crotch against your hip. "Practice does make perfect."

Turning on your side to face her, you plant a kiss on her forehead, then hug her close to you. "I think you are already perfect."

* * *

You enter the kitchen this morning to find only a note.

 _G,_ _Called in at 4am. :( Some guy came in tripping balls and stabbed one of my docs in the leg._ _Coffee's all ready to go, just turn on the pot. (I know how good you are at turning things on.) There is cereal in the cabinet. Sorry, no fruit loops._ _Don't forget to pack before work. You won't have much time later._ _See you at work._ _A_

ER is the armpit of medicine, only just above clinic duty in your mind. Leave it to Cameron to find herself there, you muse as you make your way to the coffee pot to turn it on, smiling because of her comment as you do.

The two of you got a start on making plans for your weekend before you went to sleep. You have your regular appointment with Nolan in the late afternoon, Cameron will tag along and hang in the lobby to save time. Besides, Nolan mentioned last session he'd like to meet her if she said yes to your offer of a relationship.

Damn, her taste in cereal is pretty… adult, you think, as you grab some sort of extra fiber bran flakes from the cabinet. Pouring a bowl, you find the sugar by the coffee pot and add 3 spoonfuls before taking the milk from the fridge and drowning the flakes.

You continue to mull over the plans as you reluctantly consume high fiber cereal.

A road trip. You know you'd like to spend at least some time in New York. There's a blues concert you've been looking forward to. Concerts make great dates. Not so much emphasis on talking, but then again, kind of the whole purpose of the weekend is to talk, or at least get to know one another better away from your work. You'll have more than enough time for that, you muse.

Cameron's brother and his family live in Brooklyn, she suggested having dinner with them and crashing at their place on Saturday night. You do owe her sister-in-law a thank you for that red dress. But you are less thrilled about spending that much time around people you don't know. However, that is part of what you've signed yourself up for by getting into a relationship with someone who actually likes people in their family.

You've make reservations tonight at a B&B that is on the way to the city. You'll spend Saturday in New York, then play it by ear for Sunday and Monday.

Once you've finished eating the cereal, that you are now convinced may indeed be made of cardboard, you place the bowl in the sink and make your way back to the bedroom to start packing and finish dressing for work.

You'll have to stop by Wilson's on the way to get more clothes. Maybe you should to talk to Cameron about getting that bigger place sooner than later. There isn't even half enough space for your tennis shoes and, like all women, her closet is stuffed as it is with her clothing, leaving little room for much of yours.

* * *

You don't even get through the door of your office before your whole team is on you, informing you it is not lead poising. His liver is failing, heart rate and BP are erratic, and his heart had to be shocked back into rhythm twice during the night. Tossing your bookbag in your seat, you turn to them. Chase, looks a little hungover. The subtle signs of dehydration around his eyes, indicating he might not have taken the news completely in stride once he left. Barely peeking out from his collar is a red mark. A hickey.

You know this routine; drown your sorrows in booze and sex. But he's here today and all business otherwise. Good for him.

Twirling your cane to add a little flare to your delivery "There's only one thing left to do." Your team look at you questioning. "Thirteen, you and I are going back to middle earth. The rest of you try to make yourselves useful and not let the patient die while we're gone."

On the way into the the fairgrounds you notice a costume shop. Pulling your car in and parking, Thirteen give you a confused look "Why are we stopping here? You think there is something about his costume?"

"Nope." You say as you get out of the car and head for the front door. A puzzled Thirteen following wearily behind you.

Inside you are greeted by the owner. A short round man, addressing you in a less than convincing Old English accent. Twenty minutes later you both leave dressed fully in period appropriate attire, which you rented for the day on your hospital business AMEX. Cuddy is going to love getting this expense report. You so enjoy being bad.

God, it is good to be the boss. Thirteen had no desire to play along, but she did, because you are the boss. Now you not only get to play dress up, but you have a really great view of her breasts.

It is kind of disappointing that Cameron isn't the one you can drag along to play with you, but you'll get a much better view of her breasts later, so for now you take what you can get.

Once into the fair, you wander down the main dirt thoroughfare looking around for clues. Thirteen still looks incredibly uncomfortable. It's great.

"We're wasting our time." She says.

"Actually, I've already gotten good value." You reply, giving her cleavage another lingering look.

Rolling her eyes at your sexual harassment, she maintains "I told you, there's nothing here that could have caused any of his symptoms."

"No, you told me that you couldn't find anything here that could be causing the symptoms." God, do you have to constantly spell everything out for them? You think they'd be more observant by now.

"And now we're gonna find something new because we're in costume? We looked everywhere, tested everything. Just because Wilson's acting stupid doesn't mean we are." She argues, her last comment peaking your interest. You'd decided to let the Sam thing go, maybe you were hasty.

"Do you think he's making a mistake?" You ask her.

"Of course. But he'll figure it out, sooner or later. Hopefully, after a few weeks of great sex. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Speaking of ventures in great sex, how are things with you and Cameron?" She completely undercuts you with the last statement. You fail to hide your surprise, due to being caught so off guard.

Dammit, how does she know that?

Chase?

Maybe she was the shoulder he cried on last night. Good for him if he landed that. But no, you'd know if they fucked. You always know.

"Poison Ivy." She says matter of factly, as if she can read your thoughts. "I bumped into Cameron this morning, she has it on her neck, which is an odd place for one to have it, and not also have it on their arms or hands.

"But... you have it on your hand, and you've been the one wielding around the source. I'm guessing you transferred it from your right hand to her left neck after she gave you the sword.

"Add that to Cameron leaving the team the morning I saw her getting out of a cab, coming into work with your jacket in tow, your improved mood the last week or so, and top it all off with the fact that Chase came in hungover with all the trimmings of a one night stand, and you don't even mention it. Maybe because you know that you and Cameron are the reason behind it?"

Wow. She laid out the evidence like the climax of an episode of CSI. You see no point in denying it. "Now if I could get that kind of careful focus and attention on our patient maybe he'd be cured by now. I am assuming that Foreman and Taub still have no clue?"

"Not that I know of. I'd assume they'd be gossiping with me about it by now if they did." She answers sincerely, to your relief.

"Do you think I'm making a mistake?" You ask the same question of your relationship as you did of Wilson's. Hoping for a different answer.

Thirteen smiles at you, then answers. "With Cameron? No. She's always had it bad for you. Chase was the one to make the mistake in thinking he could make her fall out of love with you. I mean, I wasn't even there before they got together, but it was still obvious he was the consolation prize.

"I think the ball is in your court on this one. If you don't fuck it up, she'll be great for you. And she already knows what a colossal jerk you are. You'll have to be a complete idiot to fuck it up, and if you do that, then you deserve what you get."

You nod to her. Relieved to hear your own opinion echoed in her assessment. You really hope you can not fuck it up. "So, Cameron and I are trying to keep this to ourselves for a few weeks. Chase knows, Wilson knows, now you know. I know I am a complete ass when it comes to… well, everything really, but especially personal stuff, but would you keep this between us? If not for me, for Cameron?"

"Wow, House, that is actually really sweet." She says with a hint of disbelief, then gives you a wide smile. You roll your eyes, becoming increasingly insecure with the turn the in conversation.

A pungent aroma begins to assault your nostrils, giving you a great excuse to change the subject back to something more comfortable. "Do you smell that?"

"Yeah, it's the apothecary shop. And yes, Foreman and I already…" Leaving her talking to herself you quick-limp forward to the apothecary shop.

* * *

Fucking hemlock. What idiots. Wild carrots? Really? You are completely stunned at the stupidity of your fellow humans on a daily basis. Today is no different. Fucking hemlock.

Your afternoon was a whirlwind of investigation, testing, accusation, and still no answer. The hemlock is in his system, perhaps an accident, perhaps not. Either way the patient doesn't believe his 'king' would try to kill him. If not, why is he the only one sick?

The treatment makes him worse, not better. What the hell is going on? There is something else killing him. You retreat to your office to think. You lay in your lounge chair and pick up the sword again. It helps you think. You hold it up and stare at your reflection in the metal.

"Don't do it!" Lucas' voice draws you out of your thoughts as he walks into your office, large manila envelope in hand. "Whatever you're planning, especially if you're gonna use that thing. Geez." He indicates the sword.

Amused you feign nonchalance and reference the legend of King Arthur "It was just sitting in a stone."

Tossing the envelope onto your lap, he shifts gears to the subject of his visit. "Here. It's gonna cost extra, because of the level of detail that you wanted."

You look it over curiously, but don't open it. "Anything good? And by good, I, of course, mean bad."

Lucas sits on your desk as he continues. "Nope, pretty much your typical life. Married young, got divorced. Married a little less young, got divorced. She's been pretty successful in everything she's done, except marriage."

You think about the statement for a moment as you get up from your chair and stand in front of him. Sure sounds familiar.

"I didn't read her shrink's notes. Didn't seem right." Indicating there could be something there, Lucas bates you with the information.

You really like Lucas. It is so much easier to snoop on people with a professional. "But stealing them did."

Pretending offense Lucas puts up his hands. "Whoa, I didn't steal them. I found a way to obtain them."

A voice calls behind you. "Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but you got a minute?" You turn to see Sam. Lucas answers her, jokingly.

"Sure." You give him a look, and he rises to leave. "Oh, him? Yeah, I was just leaving."

Once Lucas is out of the office, Sam continues. "I was just coming to see James. I saw you and thought I'd drop in and say thank you."

"For what?" You ask, puzzled by her meaning.

"For not freaking out on me. James told me you were worried. He also told me that you have been known to be a real…" She searches for a polite way to say it, so you finish for her.

"Ass? Jerk? Son of a bitch?"

"Yeah, one of those," she agrees then continues her point "when you are worried about him."

You come to a decision. You are going to tell her how you feel about it. If she gives a damn about Wilson, she'll understand, if not, fuck her anyway. You're not looking to be her friend.

"Look, Sam. I am a jerk. My first response to finding out who you were was to tell you 'you're a cold-hearted bitch, who ripped his heart out' and then do everything in my power to get rid of you." She looks hurt by this, but you continue. "I watched him struggle for years to overcome the damage you did and I'm afraid you'll reel him back in so you can do it all over again."

She is silent. "I want to be wrong about you. The problem is I'm not wrong that often. But, I want to believe that people can change. I'm working hard to change myself. I have to. I came to the breaking point last year, and I've been able to hold it together for ten months now with Wilson's help. And now I have Allison, and I want even more to believe I can be a better man than I have been the last ten years.

"Wilson is my best friend, he's really my only friend. He says you've changed. I think he is prone to being a sucker and a target. But I've decided to be not like me, and trust him to handle this himself. Just know that if you do hurt him, I'll make your life hell."

"Wow. I wasn't expecting that at all." She pauses for a moment then continues "Look, we do have one big thing in common. We care about James. He and I just reconnected and we don't really know where this is going, but it means a lot to both of us that you are giving us a chance to find out."

You nod to her as she turns to leave. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you around."

It suddenly hits you. You smile and kiss the sword. Those aren't focal hepatic lesions on his liver, they're peliosis hepatis lesions. The erratic heart-rate is symptomatic of Endocarditis. Mix the two and you get steroids. The hemlock accelerated the damage. It fits.

You inform your team with time to spare to leave for your appointment with Nolan. Allison will already be home. You gather up your things from work. As you start to leave, you eye the envelope from Lucas. You really want to know what is inside, but you've made your decision. Tossing it in the trash you head to the garage and climb into your car. To bad you can't carry suitcases on your motorcycle; it would be a great weekend for a biking trip. Oh, well. Some other time, you think as you start the car and head for home, case solved, which means a distractionless weekend to look forward to.

* * *

 _Notes:_

So this chapter concludes my remaking of 'Knight Fall' in a more Hameron image. There is more to come as we continue on through this alt version of season 6. I spent extra time on this episode because the introduction of Sam's character really began the downward spiral for House in terms of therapy and his overall mental health. The twist of him also entering into a romantic relationship at the same time really changes everything, because he's already depending on Wilson less and isn't continuing to pine over Cuddy.

I don't plan on writing over every remaining episode in this detail, but I hope you enjoyed my retelling of this tale. I'm personally looking forward to a little weekend vacation bonding time with our couple. :)

I hope folks are still reading, 's traffic stats seem to be broken the last few days, so it looks like no one is even opening the story at all. I highly doubt this, but it is still disconcerting. If you have a second, please drop me a note and let me know you're still out there.

As always, thanks to astavares for the beta, and for the fun House chat.


	11. Getting to Know You

Chapter 11: Getting to Know You

Cameron is amusing you as you both load the car for your weekend road trip. She has decided the best way to reset her clock with yours is to not sleep until a normal bedtime, and is currently bouncing around like the energiser bunny on speed thanks to a Five Hour Energy and a double shot of espresso. It reminds you of her younger self. She was more like this the first few months on your team. Always happy, energetic, smiling ear to ear.

You had changed that about her. She learned to put up the shield with you, to guard herself. Oh, she didn't really want to do it, but survival is a strong instinct. It was a lesson she needed to learn for the job, but some part of you regrets having to be the one to take away her naive view of the world. For the first year, you wondered if she shouldn't just be in a lab. Her connection to patients was too strong; her empathy overwhelmed her.

You have the same problem when you have a patient that you connect with. Their pain pulls you in and you start losing your ability to reason impartially, to take the risks necessary to be you. This is why you fight her. People say they need the human connection with their doctors, but what they really need is to be cured. Emotions cloud judgement, they have no place in a DDX.

Cameron is one of the few people who see that about you. Wilson gets it. Cuddy thinks you should get over it and start making more human connections. That is the real reason for the insane amounts of clinic duty; that and she loves the fight. Then again, you like the fight too. The rest of your team thinks you are a cold hearted misanthrope who hates people and only cares about the puzzle. Well, you do that too. But opening up to make a connection about someone whose life is in your hands overwhelms your ability to do the crazy things needed to cure them.

Her ability to figure you out was always frightening. But it created these moments with her that you could let your guard down and say things to her that you wouldn't to many other people. Wilson, Stacy, occasionally Cuddy might make the list, but it's a short list. You aren't good at opening up, but you are hoping she'll take the reins this weekend and you'll figure out a way.

As you pull out of her lot, she starts in on the conversation, still high on caffeine and B12.

"So, Gabe and Mariana are really excited that we're visiting them, and so are their boys. Mariana is a professional violinist and teaches Suzuki, and both boys play music as well. The eldest, Jonathan, is 14 and a very gifted cellist. He won some sort of youth contest last year where he got to play at Carnegie for some sort of festival. Tomas, is 12 going on 21, not so much into music, though they still make him take piano lessons. He'd rather spend his day on YouTube, the PS3, watching TV or generally annoying his big brother. He's the classic under achiever; bored in every class, but instead of making straight A's or trying to skip a grade he only does as much as he needs to pass and he's completely into girls already. He's totally a clone of Gabe."

"He sounds like my kind of kid." A lot, in truth. Between the moving between schools and the fact you were bored out of your mind, you made it a game to calculate the minimum amount of work you needed to do to maintain a least a C average. Homework was for chumps, and you kept your grades up by acing every exam. When you can score a perfect on your SATs and write masterful essays no one gives a shit about your GPA anyway. As always, your carefully planned laziness was happily reinforced.

Much like your job at PPTH, you've managed to manipulate yourself into a job where you have one patient at a time, but that one patient is the most interesting of the lot, and in general avoid all other boring work as much as possible. You consider this kind of genius-laziness to be an artform.

"What does your brother do?" See, that wasn't so hard. Ask a question, try to care about the answer.

"He's a penetration tester." You glance over to her with a questioning look. She smirks at you.

"So he works in porn?" Damn, now that would be a cool twist, but you are sure that is not what that title really means.

Looking pleased with your taking of the bait, she explains his profession more thoroughly. "He's a white-hat hacker, a cyber security engineer. In other words, he gets paid to see if he can break into computer systems by the people who own and build said systems. He exposes their weaknesses so they can close potential exploits to the system."

"God, that is so... Cameron of him. Gifted with bad ass skills and he uses his powers to keep people safe and secure." You shake your head in mock disapproval.

"Please tell me he at least hacks all of the best porn sites with his super hacker skills. Do you think he'd give me the family discount? I have some things I'd like to hack into at the hospital, and I am tired of paying that creepy IT kid to bypass the firewall for live sex chat." In truth, it would be cool to have someone other than that still pimple ridden kid to deal with. You are sure that one visit from mistress Cuddy would break him and your free rein on the internet at work will end swiftly and violently.

"Yeah, well if the internet had been a thing when he was in highschool, I am sure that is exactly what he would have done with his skills. As it was, he used to just use me as a human shield to hide anything he didn't want our folks to know about. He's seven and a half years older than me, so he basically conned me into hiding his secret box of bad stuff in my closet, because he figured that was the last place Mom or Dad would look for it. He had his fair share of Playboys and even a few Hustlers in there. As well as some cheap whiskey, his weed and dirty letters from his girlfriends."

You can imagine sweet little pre-ten-year-old Allison, with her insane moral compass, being convinced by her big older brother to help him out. You wonder if she knew what was in the box at the time. For some reason you imagine she'd have run straight to mommy and daddy, but maybe you weren't the first person to teach her to bend the rules for team loyalty.

"I knew I missed out by being an only child. I usually just hid my porn, booze and weed in the air vents. I think Mom knew and just looked the other way, but when Dad found the stuff..." You leave the sentence open ended. Honestly not sure you are ready to suddenly have that conversation. Lucky for you the timing is good, and Cameron is distracted by your diverting her car onto your street.

"Hey, are we stopping by your place?"

"Yeah, I need to pick something up for the trip." You say as you park on the street in front of your apartment. "You can come in. It might take me a few minutes to find what I'm looking for."

As you open the door to your apartment, you smell food cooking. What the fuck? "Someone is here." You whisper to her, cautiously. "Stay here, I'll check it out."

"Shouldn't we just call the police?" As she reaches for her cell phone, you shake your head no.

"Well, they're cooking, which is a really interesting way to rob a place. Let me check it out. Besides, we'd probably be shot by now if whoever this is was violent."

"House! You're finally home!" A familiar voice calls from inside and you enter to see your old roommate from Mayfield holding a spatula and wearing an apron.

"Alvie? What the hell are you doing here, in my apartment... cooking?"

"When I left Mayfield, I went back to the old neighborhood. You know, you shouldn't leave the bathroom window unlocked."

"Yeah, thanks for the safety lesson. Why are you here?"

"Like I said, when I went back to the neighborhood, I found out immigration was looking for me. So I decided to visit my old buddy House!" Alvie slaps you on the shoulder with his free hand earning a scathing look from you. Then his focus turns to Cameron, who has been quietly observing your interaction thus far. "And who is the babe? Hey are you two playing house? Ha! Get it? Playing House!"

Same old Alvie, you think as you are sure your facial expression drips with annoyance and a flash of anger. Making a quick introduction, you continue your questioning.

"This is Cameron. Cameron, Alvie. Alvie, Cameron. And you're cooking because?"

The amount of energy radiating from this guy was amazing. You hold your ground, still steaming at his intrusion and more or less ignoring Cameron.

"Hey, I'm no freeloader. I figured I'd make you dinner to say 'thank you' for letting me crash at your place. I made some the last two nights. I was starting to think you might never come home. But here you are!"

"And you need to get out." Emphasizing the statement by pointing to the door, you then feel a hand on your arm, and you turn your attention to the woman behind you.

"Excuse me guys, I don't mean to interrupt, I need to talk to House privately for a minute." Cameron nods her head toward your hallway as Alvie answers.

"Sure thing, mamacita. I need to get back to the kitchen anyway. Wouldn't want anything to burn."

Cameron drags you back to your bedroom and shuts the door behind you. "So uh, who's this Alvie guy? He mentioned Mayfield. Was he a patient there?"

"Yeah. He was my roommate." You roll your eyes. She laughs.

"Oh my god. That is hysterical."

"I'm glad my time in the mental hospital amuses you. That's very un-Cameron of you to be amused by the pain of others."

Raising her brow at you, "You wanted me to be less of a teddy bear." then questions you seriously. "Is he a dangerous person?"

"No." You dismiss, with a sigh. "Just crazy and really fucking hyper. But harmless."

"Then just tell him to stay for the weekend, and you can sort it out when we get back. It's not like you're using the place and we don't have time to deal with this and make your appointment. So either you need to call Nolan and we postpone our vacation, or you need to just be a friend and let him stay, then deal with his immigration problems when we get back."

"Why the hell should I help him deal with any of his problems?" Whining, you ask her incredulously.

"Because for whatever reason, he thinks you're his friend and that is what friends do." God, she _is_ the female Wilson.

"Oh, you'll be all teddy bear for a total stranger, but me…"

She steps closer to you, and drops her voice to speak more seductively."You don't want or need a teddy bear. Other people do. I'm just giving people what they need."

Entering her space, you lord over her using your height to show your dominance. "I need oral sex. Right now." Two can play this game, and with her, you generally win.

"You already tried that line when I was your boss for the day. Didn't work then either."

No, but it was fun.

You step even closer, letting your bodies touch, and bend your lips down to her ear and whisper "You thought about it though. It could have been really hot."

"You would have ran, well limped, away if I had gone for your zipper." She's talking a brave front, but pressed to her chest, you can feel her body's response giving her away.

Stepping away you go for the win. "You'll never really know, now will you? And who says I referring to receiving it."

With that, you open the door and head back to the livingroom to deal with Alvie.

* * *

"I can't believe I had to go through all of that just to get a record from my own apartment!" Alvie was infuriating. You fear for your apartment, but Allison was right. It was easier to just let him crash there and deal with it later, than to let his surprise visit distroy your weekend. But you are damn glad that you had a reason to stop by now. Who knows how long he may have been there without your knowing otherwise.

"Yeah, so what's the story with the record." Allison asks as she inspects the album cover. "Why did you need it for our trip?"

Smiling, you think back to a happy memory from your youth. You like road trips. Something about being in a car and not having to make so much eye contact makes it easier to talk about things. This story is also a very good memory, so it makes for a good icebreaker anyway.

"This was my first ever Dr. John album and we are going to see Dr. John on Saturday. I nearly wore it out learning to play all of the tunes on both piano and guitar. This ended up earning me my very first blow job, so there is a lot of sentimental value attached.

"I'm hoping to get him to sign it after the concert. Actually, I am counting on my hot girlfriend to use her flirtation skills to make sure that happens. Hot chicks get backstage so much easier than middle-aged fanboys."

"Nice to know I bring some intrinsic value to our relationship." She says as she places the record on the back seat. "So spill it. You can't mention your first blow job in passing and not give me the whole story. This is our getting to know you weekend."

She took the bait. Why wouldn't she, you do have a rare smile plastered across your face because of the memory.

"I was fifteen, she was eighteen. I was living in Japan at the time and she was my language tutor. I was a very quick study and she was a fine, and I do mean FINE, teacher. She came to our home early for our lesson once. I was in my room practicing guitar along with the record. Mom let her go on up to my room, and she let herself in and listened for a little while. I was really into it in that moment, and had my eyes closed and the music was turned up loud; I didn't even know she had come in.

"Next thing I know, she is kissing me. It was a shock and I opened my eyes. She put a finger on my lip to keep me quiet, took my guitar away then sat in my lap and started kissing me again. I was fifteen, so you can imagine the whole experience gave me a pretty instant hard-on. When she felt it, she got the most amazing look on her face and the next thing I know, I am getting sucked off to my favorite record by my incredibly hot, incredibly Asian, Japanese tutor. I think I lasted all of thirty seconds. But god, what an amazing thirty seconds."

It was. You had always had the hots for her, but you'd had no idea she felt the same way. She didn't love you or want to date you, but you were a willing object of lust and curiosity. You had the advantage of being an exotic foreigner. You were smarter than the guys her age and your stature made you look older and unlike most of the other military brats, you took the effort to master her language. The guitar playing just sent her over the edge.

"Mom knocked on the door maybe two minutes later with drinks for us. I turned completely red when she asked if we were having a good time. I can't lie to my mother; I shut down. She just smiled and left the door open on her way back out."

Even thinking of it now, you can feel heat in your face. It is a strange power your mother has over you.

"You're actually turning a little red now talking about it. Now that is priceless!" She is enjoying teasing you and raises the back of her hand to stroke your flushing cheek. Flashing an annoyed sideways glance in her direction, she takes back her hand, still pleased with your reaction.

"Parent's catching you in the act is the worst. My last high school boyfriend and I got caught with his hands up my shirt by my mother. Thank god it wasn't Dad! I would have died of embarrassment, and my boyfriend would have died of fright."

"What did your mother do?"

"Looked shocked, then embarrassed, then just turned around and walked out with a 'Sorry.'"

"Wow. She didn't care if the two of you just got right back to it?"

"I was eighteen and about two weeks away from going to college. I think she thought if she hadn't taught me what I needed to know by then, there wasn't much she could do once I was out of the house. And come on, she had to know she'd ruined the moment."

Yeah, there is nothing that kills off an erection like your girlfriend's mother walking in on you. Unless she's a MILF and wants to join in. That would just be hot.

"We'll that is not a very exciting story. I told you my first oral sex story, tell me yours."

"Giving or receiving?"

Saucy girl.

"Though I am happy you took the time at some point to master the skill of giving, let's go with receiving. Hopefully by one of your girlfriends."

You can see her rolling her eyes and smiling at your typical dirty humor. "You're not going to let that one go are you?"

"Nope. 'Cause it's hot." A guy can dream.

"We'll sorry to disappoint, the first person to go down on me did infact have a penis, which he was born with."

"I was sixteen, he was sixteen. He was my advanced biology partner. We were discussing the female orgasm. He started making jokes about how with every other part of the anatomy we had studied to that point, our teacher had us find it and palpate it on our partner. 'Of course we stopped with the fun parts.' So I asked him, what was stopping him now. He had a diagram and a willing partner and that it was all in the name of science."

"Seriously! You're wicked." You'd seen her work over Chase in the lab a few times. They didn't know you were around, and she'd talk about sex in that matter-of-fact way that gives women power over men. She would act innocent and tell them that men should be able to handle it when a women talks about sex, but all women know better. It's a power play.

"Yes, I can be. It didn't hurt we were a little high at the time and that I was really horny because my best friend was constantly telling me about how awesome her boyfriend's tongue was. I was tired of waiting for 'the right guy,' my partner was cute, and smart and I trusted him. We joked all of the time about needing to practice so we didn't suck when the real thing came along. I just decided we should stop joking and get to practicing.

"We were at his house; it was a Saturday. I think his mom secretly wanted us to hook up, so she was always leaving us alone to study. She went out to get her hair done; we stayed home and played doctor. He made a very… thorough examination. I am surprise the screams didn't wake the neighbors. I had no idea it would be like that." It's her turn to blush, you notice as you glance at her.

"Wait, didn't you ever give yourself an orgasm before that?" You ask.

"Nope. I mean, of course I touched myself before that and had some sort of enjoyment from it, but nothing like that. He went on a full out clitoral onslaught. I didn't really even know about my clitoris before that class. My circle of friends weren't the most sexually active. We were all pretty focused on academics. So once my friend told me about her experience, and we started talking about the anatomy of it in school, I was suddenly very interested in this mysterious part of my body that I hadn't discovered."

Placing her hand on your crotch, she gives you a playful rub. "Too bad you weren't my teacher. I would have liked earning extra credit from you."

"Damn, you're a bad girl." You say as you grab her hand, and place it back on her side of the car, but not before thrusting against it once for good measure. You need to drive, and you are too old for driving while coming.

"Spank me later." An excellent order, is issued from her lips.

"You can plan on it." A promise is given in return.

"How about the first time you had real sex?" You should probably change the subject, but you're on a roll, why stop now. Besides it's kind of hot thinking of her that young and horny.

"I was in college, nineteen and toward the end of the first semester of my sophomore year. Again, a friend. I had a couple of girlfriends who were head over heels in love with their first and it totally fucked them up mentally when they broke up. One of them even dropped out of school for a semester. None of them seemed like the overly clingy type before hand. So I decided maybe it would be better to just get the experience out of the way, so I wasn't overwhelmed by the falling in love part on top of the sex part.

"We were both biology majors and had made out a few times after study sessions and at a couple of parties. He was an amazing kisser and knew all of the places on my neck that could turn me into a wet mess. He did have one quirk. He didn't go down. Said it was a cultural thing."

"Was he the culture of gay!?" You question, not able to believe that any straight man doesn't get off on eating pussy. "Going down is one of life's greatest pleasures. It's a serious turn on."

"He was black. Apparently that racial stereotype is somewhat true. At least in my experience. Or maybe I was just unlucky. I always wondered about Foreman and Hadley. I mean, I imagine it has to be something of a requirement for a bisexual woman." She makes an aside, before continuing her own story.

"Anyway, he was very talented otherwise, and let's be honest, we weren't a couple, so there were other places I could get that. So one night I told him I wanted to lose my virginity and get it over with. So we talked about everything for a while and we agreed to do it.

We had sex a couple of more times, but we were cautious of getting too emotionally involved. I was actually very good at not getting too emotionally involved, before I met my husband. That experience changed me."

Now things are starting to make more sense. Chase never seemed to fit the pattern you had made for Cameron until now. She falls in love with broken men. Now you know she has sex for sex's sake with her study partners and workmates as a general rule. Two sides to the coin.

Her mentioning her husband again peaks your curiosity about something that has always puzzled you, but you have never felt comfortable to broach the topic until now.

"Why don't you ever use your dead husband's name? In all the times you've mentioned him, you've never once called him by name."

She is silent for a moment, looking out the passenger's side window at the passing landscape.

"It's… it's just painful. I went through a long period where just saying his name would land me in tears. I guess I got in a habit of avoiding it. Now it's second nature to just call him 'my husband'."

Her reasoning is followed by another long pause. Taking a deep breath she tells you "His name was Brian Anderson."

You thought she might cry next, but instead, you glance over to see her smiling. Obviously caught up in a memory. You take your right hand from the steering wheel and reach over to take her left hand from her lap. As your fingers intertwine with hers, she shares her thought with you.

"I told him there was no way I was going to be Allison Anderson. I hate names that are also alliterations. Not sure why. Just a pet peeve of mine. So I kept my maiden name."

Another answer to a question you hadn't been comfortable enough to ask before. And definitely not an answer you would have thought of. You do have to admit, it was an interesting quirk.

"Were you going to take Chase?" You had actually teased her about being Dr. Chase once. In fact, the thought amused you more than it should.

"I seriously considered it. But we both thought it would be weird at work, since everyone uses our surnames even in casual conversation. I think if people at work called us Allison and Robert, I would have been ok being Allison Chase. But it would have been really weird being Chase and Chase. That just sounds like a bad lawfirm. I thought about dropping my middle name or hyphenating so it still made sense to be Cameron at work, but I would have ended up with an alliteration again. Allison Cameron Chase. Not going to happen."

Allison House. No alliteration there. Unless...

"Does your middle name start with an H?"

"Very funny, House." Uh, oh. You weren't trying to make a joke, but your past actions just screwed you.

"It's a legitimate question. This is our getting to know you weekend, and we are actually having a conversation about something other than sex or work now, which is the whole goal." You defend yourself with logic and reasoning.

"You hired me, you should know from my application that my middle name is Elizabeth. Or at the very least you should know it starts with an E." She, makes a good point. But you didn't read that part of her application because you were honestly distracted by her stunning looks the whole interview.

"You're giving me way too much credit with names. You do remember I didn't know Thirteen's real name for almost a year, right?"

"Don't tease me House." She's having none of it and she's calling you House. This is what you get for teasing her about her affections for six years. An honest thought, any normal boyfriend might have, must be some sort of trick coming from you.

"Greg." You correct her. She is developing a pattern of when she calls you House versus Greg. At work, or around acquaintances you're House. When she's annoyed or pissed at you, you're House. When you are alone and enjoying one another you've become Greg. You like being Greg with her. You haven't been Greg with someone for a long time. Prostitutes don't count.

"We're not at work and I'm not trying to tease you or piss you off. I'm not proposing either. The topic just came up and it made me curious. Whether or not someone would take my last name isn't something I've thought about for a long time."

Since Stacy, really. She took Warner, she probably would have taken House. You never got to ask.

"Were you ever engaged?" She asks.

Well, you did sort of lead yourself down this path. You've put up so many walls with everyone, openly belittle marriage as being an antiquated institution, and equate healthy marriage with something impossible. You may even believe it, but you still can't help wanting to be wrong and wanting to be loved. Cameron once told you 'ignorance is bliss', concerning marriage. You've never enjoyed being ignorant of anything. It's just a lot of potential hurt you open yourself up to.

You think back to when you were young. Still as impulsive as you are now, but not afraid of love. You hadn't been burned by it enough times yet. It was still all passion and hormones, a ticket to adulthood and freedom.

"When I was sixteen, I tried to run away with a girl once, with the intention of eloping. I was still living in Japan and tired of my father. I fell in love with a girl in school who also just wanted the hell away from her parents. We planned the whole thing out for weeks. I confided the plan to my best friend at the time. We got about fifty miles away before getting caught. My friend totally freaked out when we went through with it and told his parents, who called mine, who called hers.

"I never got to see her after that night. I got sent back to the states to live with my oma. I ended up in a prep school for boys until I graduated."

"I never saw you as a Romeo type." Interesting, she thinks that. Impulse control has never been one of your strong suits. But then again, you've also avoided serious relationships like the plague since she's known you.

"I'm not suicidal enough for that." Playing her statement off, you continue "It wasn't like we had much of a shot at making it, but it felt amazing to take control of my life for a few hours. She was my first. And you're right, falling in love with your first can fuck you up when it doesn't work out."

Giving her hand a little squeeze before you reclaim it, you return it to the wheel to make a sharp turn. You find yourself wanting to tell her about Stacy, wanting her to know that you've thought about marriage for yourself in the context of an adult relationship.

"I also picked out a ring for Stacy, but I never got to ask her. The infarction happened before I could ask, and there was no way I was going to ask while I was in the hospital. Then everything fell apart, and… you know the rest of that story."

Reaching across the console she lightly pets the hair on just above your ear. Your eyes are still on the road but you feel her gaze on you as she gently runs her fingers over your hair. It is a soothing gesture, her way of thanking you for opening yourself to her.

"I've never even told Wilson that." You tell her honestly. No one has known until now.

"I'm glad you told me." She says, just as you pull the car into a parking spot. Time for another layer to be peeled away for her. Time to meet Nolan.

"Well, we're here."


	12. Becoming a Part of Your Life

_Note: Sorry for the longer wait. I had a little trouble getting this one right. A huge thanks again to my beta astavares for some great feedback and ideas! This chapter came out way better thanks to her. :)_

 _This is a nice long one, so hopeful that helps make up for the wait. I'm going to be vacationing for a couple of weeks, so if I don't post for a few weeks, it isn't because I've abandoned the story. I just might not have time to write. I hope you enjoy the next installment!_

* * *

Chapter 12: Becoming a Part of Your Life

You are still a few minutes early for your appointment even with the unexpected Alvie situation at your apartment, so you sit in the lobby outside Nolan's office. You grab a stack of magazines and start shuffling through them looking for something to read. Allison, as you would expect, came prepared for her wait and brought in her iPad. You glance over at her screen and see she is pulling up a medical journal.

'Well, that's boring', you think as you rip it from her hands and proceed to pursue her app selection. "Hey!" She protests, as you toss her a Women's Health magazine.

"There is a great article in there on sex positions you should read up on. I'll just hold this for you." The comment earns an eye roll from her, but she let's you get away with it as she turns to the article you mentioned. 'Where does she keep the games on this damn thing?' You wonder as you swipe through her app screens. 'Oh, yay! She has Plants vs Zombies.' You think. It's become your new addiction when you are hiding out in pediatrics to avoid clinic duty. Kids always know about the the best games.

You start the app and are pleased to see she's actually played a fair amount of levels. Without even looking up, she tells you "Don't play as me; make your own player. I don't want you to screw up the end game for me."

She knows you well. You have little respect for game progress when stealing other people's electronics. "Party pooper." You say, wondering if you should just do it anyway and enjoy another punishment from her, but you decided to be a good boy and add yourself to her game as 'CamsSexSlave' just in case anyone at work decides to borrow her iPad.

Nolan ushers out his last patient, just as an end wave of Zombies begins attacking. Great timing. "I'm in danger of having my brains on the menu, give me a minute or it's going to make for some really poor conversation." You continue grabbing suns and swapping out plants. Nolan and Allison decide to not wait on you to introduce themselves.

Standing, Allison extends her hand and Nolan shakes it firmly. "I'm Dr. Allison Cameron. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Dr. Cameron, Dr. Darryl Nolan. House has never brought anyone to a session before." It was as much a question as a statement. His doctor patient confidentiality agreement prevents him from even mentioning that you had talked about Cameron with him. He was prodding a bit to figure out the boundaries without asking about the obvious development in your relationship directly.

You could have called ahead and told him that she would be coming in with you, but it was more interesting to observe them this way. Allison addressed the topic for you, as you continue to pretend ignoring them for the game. "Greg and I are taking a weekend vacation. It was easier to just tag along with him here, so he didn't have to double back to pick me up."

"Ah. I see." Nolan responds.

Your level ends, with your brains still intact, and you toss the iPad in her seat and stand. "She knows I talked to you about us, so you can stop being so protective of my privacy. Believe me, she's already seen all of my private parts." This earns a slap on the arm from her.

"You definitely have your work cut out for you." She tells Nolan, who gives her a knowing look.

"I did mention to House that if you said yes to starting a relationship with him I would like to meet you. It helps with the sessions if I have a good idea about the people my patients are close to. We have some ground rules set up that help me maintain doctor/patient confidentiality, but still allow us to talk openly. This way we can make sure that House maintains a strong network of support in between his sessions."

You've never been comfortable with this part. It was a little easier with Wilson. He's your medical proxy and you did all of the uncomfortable bits of conversation when you were in withdraw, with Wilson over the phone. You were happy to agree to whatever to just stop hallucinating Amber and Kutner. Now in a more normal state you feel exposed and awkward. "You can just add her at the same contact level as Wilson."

Maybe you are rushing things. You haven't even really talked to her about your time here that much. But you are likely going to be with her more than Wilson now, so she needs to know. And if she is trusting you to be her medical proxy, it only seems fair to trust her with this.

Nolan raises an eyebrow, and you know the topic is going to come up in your session. He thinks you're rushing. Cameron, catches the look as well, and takes your hand to show you her support. Nolan continues.

"So there is a little bit of HIPAA paperwork involved which basically sets you up as someone I can contact if I believe House is in danger of harming himself or others. It also outlines what parts of his treatment he's agreed I can discuss with you. Anything he and I talk about in our sessions will still remain private unless he asks me to share them with you. Also, if you attend a session, we can, of course, discuss things relating to that session."

"Sounds fine. I can fill out anything you need me to while I wait." Cameron is in her doctor mode, you notice. All professional and not dropping hints to what her real thoughts on the situation are, with the exception of holding your hand.

Nolan ushers you both into his office and you wait as he pulls out some paperwork, places it on a clipboard with a pen and hands it to Cameron. "Here you go. I'd like to talk to you for a few moments at the end of our session, if that is okay with you?"

"Of course." She says as she takes the papers, and gives your hand a squeeze as she leans in to kiss your cheek. "I'll see you in a bit." Exiting the office, she closes the door behind her, leaving you to get down to business.

"Dr. Cameron is very much as you described her." He begins.

"Meaning?" You sit in the chair reserved for the patient as he walks to his chair across from you to sit as well. Picking up his yellow note pad and pen from the coffee table between you, he leans back and continues.

"Young, beautiful, professional and obviously has a great deal of affection for you."

"She does wear her feelings on her sleeve." It is no secret to anyone she likes you. Even your mother noticed in the brief moment she met her, but thankfully didn't mention it in front of your father.

"Our last session you mentioned she was still considering your invitation to start something more than friendship. How much longer did it take her to decide?"

"She gave me her answer the next Tuesday."

"I take it by the fact you are going away for the weekend together, you have progressed to a sexual relationship."

"Already clamoring to hear the fun bits?"

He looks up from scribbling notes and raises eyebrows at your joke. "You're already inviting me to consult with Dr. Cameron. I am simply gaging your level of intimacy with her, so I can understand how to approach your relationship with her."

"We'd waited long enough before dating, so I don't think waiting longer was much of an option for us. So, yes, we're doing the horizontal tango, and the vertical, and the diagonal for that matter. She's very creative it that department."

"How about the relationship beyond sex?"

"Work is still good. Allison wants to keep our relationship a secret at work for a few weeks. Less nosey people getting involved and less fallout if it doesn't work out. We've been discovered by a couple of people on my team, including her ex fiancé, but other than that, we're keeping on the down low. Our schedules are completely opposite right now, so when we are together outside of work, we don't do much talking, if you catch my drift."

You give him a waggle of the eyebrows, because serious talk about the emotional repercussions of sex makes you uncomfortable, but he continues to maintain his professional demeanor, so you continue more seriously.

"This weekend is our first chance for us to get to know each other better as a couple. So far, we seem to be working. It's actually much easier than I thought it would be."

He seems intrigued by this statement. "Easier in what way?"

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, then continue. "I was afraid it would be really one sided. That she would need more from me emotionally then I am ready to give. That's how it seemed before. It was uncomfortable for me. This time around, she is more reactive to my pace. She is still very open in her actions with me. I know she loves me. But she is much more guarded about saying the words."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You are very confident in saying she loves you."

You roll your eyes. "I am observant and she is obvious." For once you aren't trying to be cocky and you proceed to outline the evidence for him.

"She knows what I like. She anticipates what I need and want. She is very aware of my pain levels and actually works to help me ease the pain. Everyone else, even Wilson, just deals with me being more of a jerk. With the exception of Wilson's past behavior of basically enabling my Vicodin addiction by acting as my prescribing physician and not ratting me out to the cops when I would forge prescriptions in his name. She's always wanted to help, but I'd rarely allow it. Now it seems like the most natural thing in the world to let her. She's loved me a long time, I just didn't want to accept it. Now that I have, it is amazing and terrifying."

"You seem to be putting a lot of trust in her, in a short period of time. A week and a half, and you are already making her a medical contact and opening our sessions to her."

You shrug off his concern, and begin tapping your left hand on the arm of the chair. You know you are impulsive, and you don't care to have to defend actions you feel strongly about.

"We've known each other for a long time."

"Yes, but that is different." He presses. Leaning forward in his chair, he drops the note pad and pen back to the coffee table, leaning his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands in between.

"Wilson has started seeing someone too. He's not going to be so… available to me any more. Allison gave me a key to her apartment. I imagine I'll be staying there more than at Wilson's now. I want this to work with her, so she needs to be part of this. I need her to be part of this."

"Wilson is moving on. You are deepening your trust with Dr. Cameron."

"You think I'm just using Allison as a Wilson substitute?" You infer, your voice and your sour expression giving every indication that you disagree with his line of thought.

"You did mention you felt there were certain comfortable correlations in their personality."

"Yes. There are. They are both made of sugar and spice and everything nice, and seem to have an attraction to misentropic ass holes. But I didn't even know about Sam for a week. Allison giving me a key was a natural step given our schedule problems require us to come and go independently. So if we are going to include actual sleeping in the whole sleeping together thing, it makes sense for me to have a key. I'd give her one if where I was staying was my place. I admit the timing is really convenient, but I'd made up my mind to give this a shot weeks before Wilson decided to be stupid and date his ex. Maybe it's the other way around. Maybe he's trying to find another substitute for me." You say, becoming somewhat defensive, leaning forward as well to make your point.

"You didn't handle that very well last time."

He was right. Amber was a disaster. You had felt so abandoned, but you also wanted Wilson to be happy. Your two halves nearly destroyed you in the mental implosion and that was the catalyst that did destroy Amber.

"No. But I was alone before." Now you have Allison: a companion, a voice of reason, a life line.

There is silence for a moment as you sit back again and stare forward at a random piece of lint on the carpet. She really is saving you. You hadn't thought about it before, but you would be lost again if Wilson had left you for Sam if there was no Allison. It's equal parts comforting and frightening, because if you lose her now, where does that leave you if Sam and Wilson work out?

Nolan waits for you to continue, and when you don't, he prompts you with another question.

"You talk about your side of the relationship in terms of need, but hers in terms of love. Is the reverse true? Do you love her; does she need you?"

You consider this carefully as if saying it outloud will make everything you're feeling more real, and therefore more dangerous. "There are moments when I feel confident that I do. Then there are times I am afraid of letting myself love again, so I question if what I feel is love, or if it is just a reaction to the honeymoon phase and great sex. Allison needs to try to fix things, especially things that anyone else would see as hopeless. So yeah, I more than qualify in the need department."

"You've been in love before, how is this different?"

There's a question for the ages. You lean forward and pour yourself a glass of water from the pitcher that sits on the coffee table between you. Taking a drink you continue.

"The attraction to Stacy was easy. She was strong and confident, and wasn't my employee, and wasn't half my age on top of that. I didn't dominate her, and that was sexy to me, because I dominate most everyone. I asked her out after I met her in a paintball tournament. The date was a disaster, because I suck at dates. But at the end of the night, she said 'let's try this again' and she invited me over to her place the next night for pizza and TV. We ended up in bed before we had a chance to order. She was easy to love, because she knew what she wanted and just went for it. Like I do. But I wasn't very good at putting her first. The puzzle came first—I came first—and she needed more than just love, she needed to be put above the puzzle."

"And with Allison?" You make note of his shift to her first name. You've stopped calling her Cameron and you know he's made note of the subtle change in intimacy level that action implies.

A smile sweeps over your features as you think of the ways that Allison fits. "She can help solve the puzzle, so bringing work home, isn't really a problem, because she likes the puzzles too. She loves me _because_ I solve the puzzles that save people's lives—that help end their pain. She sees me as someone who does the right thing, even though I go about it in a way that everyone else thinks is insane."

You remember back to the first time she quit your team. She came to your home and and answered your question of why she 'liked' you. After she answered you knew then she didn't just like you, she was in love with you. You wouldn't shake her hand, knowing that if you touched her in that moment, you wouldn't stop at a handshake. She was so young, she deserved a life with someone who could give her everything. But you couldn't let her go completely, you had to ask her back as your fellow.

Now, after all of these years, she hasn't given up on you. She grew up and still loves you for all of the same reasons, even after witnessing first hand some of the darkest and pathetic parts of you.

"She's matured and is a much stronging person, but I still feel like I have the upperhand with her. I am not sure if that is a good or bad thing… or just a thing. The whole dynamic is different with her than with Stacy. This relationship still ends up being more about what I need, but with Allison I am meeting her needs by being needy."

Nolad raises an eyebrow to you. "I am sure she has other needs, beyond catering to yours. What do you bring to the relationship besides neediness?"

"She still needs objectivity, someone to remind her that she can't be everyone's savior. I think that she has less issues with that in the ER, but…"

Nolad interrupts, "I don't mean at work. What do you bring to the personal relationship?"

Tilting your head to the side you joke, "Well, I'm the better cook. I'm pretty much a stud in bed. I have better taste in TV."

"That's all you can think of?" He looks amused with your side-step answer.

Becoming serious again, "That's what we are working on this weekend. I don't really know what she wants beyond that. It's the only dynamic we've ever had. I'm not sure how it will evolve but I know I want it to. Before, in that first year she worked for me, that dynamic scared the hell out of me. I didn't think I could be what she wanted, but now when she looks at me, all I can think of is how amazing it is, that after everything she knows about me, she still wants me in that way. I think I can have things that I'd stopped allowing myself to want."

You see it her eyes when she climaxes. But you aren't going to say that. It sounds too sappy. Too much like 'making love.' There is more there than lust or love, she wants forever with you. It's a look you haven't seen since your first love. You both looked at each other that way. You desperately needed to believe it. You hadn't had anything close to that again until Stacy. But even she didn't look at you quite like that in those intimate moments. God, you're turning into a sap, but the symptoms never lie.

"So, you mentioned that Wilson is also seeing someone." He shifts gears back to Wilson. Reiterating the topic of Wilson's new relationship.

"His first ex wife, actually. Samantha Carr." You offer, giving him a little more detailed explanation.

"So the relationship dynamic you've had with him the last year is changing. He's focusing on himself more again, and you are shifting yourself away from him to Allison. How are you coping with the change?" He's let you calm down and rephrased his early line of questioning. Prodding to find the full extent of your emotional reaction to Wilson's relationship.

"I'm fine, but he's setting himself up to get hurt. I don't trust Sam not to hurt him, considering how things worked out the first time. My instincts are to interfere, but I've decided to ignore them and deal with my own relationship." You deliver calmly and maturely, which you can do, when you try. You just hate having to, but it serves a purpose from time to time.

Nolan looks both surprised and pleased. "That sounds very unlike you, but in a good way. I hope to see you follow through with it. It would be a big step, I think. Maybe as big as the way you handled the situation with Lydia."

The session continues and you talk more about Wilson and Sam, about work and how your relationship is starting to subtlety alter your behavior even in the areas of your life that no longer directly involve Allison. You even mentioned the Alvie situation. It is a good session and you leave feeling like you did actually break through, unlike in Nolan's example with Lydia, where despite his insistence that you showed a big sign of improvement, you just felt like shit for opening yourself and getting hurt. Time had helped you see his point, so you wonder now if things really will change for the better, and if you are graduating from your dependency on Wilson in an uncharacteristically healthy way.

Leaving his office, you see Allison sitting in the lobby, reading again on her iPad. "Your turn." You thumb over your shoulder toward the office door. You place your cane in front of you and place both hands on the handle, and sway back a little. "If he asks, be sure to confirm my comments about giving you the best sex of your life. I don't want him thinking I'm delusional again."

She rolls her eyes at you and stands up, handing you the iPad, but not before locking the screen. She picks up the clipboard, and hands it to you. "You'll need to sign these." Putting the iPad down you take it and the pen and sign each place she indicates. Then you sit down and pick up the iPad again.

"I'll see you in a bit." She says as she walks toward his door.

Calling after her you ask, "Hey what's your lock code?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." She winks. "I'd like to start with position number nine, then a smooth transition to six, ending with three, in exchange for verifying your story. You should study up while you wait. You can save your brains from zombies later."

You raise an eyebrow as she disappears and pick up the Women's Health turning to the article you had told her to read earlier with great interest.

You're not sure what you expected all of those years ago when you had considered, for the briefest moments, having a relationship, a sexual relationship, with your young fellow. Coyness maybe? Perhaps submissiveness? Shyness? Would it have been then, like it is now? No way to answer that, but the reality is not at all what you imagined.

It's better.

Way fucking better.

That is rare. Fantasy, by its very nature, is generally better than the real thing, because who fantasises about bad sex? You hadn't expected her sheer boldness. Oh, you knew she must like some kink, having caught her at work, having overheard her comments on sex, but she acts addicted to your cock. She's also very physical. Not that she doesn't like a good old fashioned slow and deep missionary fuck, but it seems like she delights in the efficiency of combining a workout with sex. It certainly lines up with how you like to stay in shape.

Lining up the numbers you start enjoying the idea of what she wants you to do with her later. Doggystyle—god, she wants it hard and deep from behind. Then into the reverse cowgirl—mmm, one position the two of you haven't gotten around to trying together. Ugg, that transition she wants might be hard on the leg, you'll need to put some thought into it, but you are sure she has ideas already. Then you'll end with the crisscross, which you are assuming, will end up being a reverse crisscross, since you'll be facing away coming out of the reverse cowgirl.

All will give you a great view of her spectacular ass. You wonder for a moment if she would let you fuck that tight little ass. She does seem to like the idea of yours being tapped by Wilson, turnabout is fair play. You should go toy shopping. If she's into it, you'll need some fun ways to work her up to your size. For someone who is so into sex, you have been surprised to not find her naughty stash of sex toys yet.

Mmm, there is another reason to shop. You've really wanted to watch her fuck herself with a few interesting objects.

Feeling your blood start to rush south with all of your dirty thoughts, you snap yourself back to reality and grab a Home and Garden magazine to help keep your mind from drifting anymore. No need to have Nolan seeing you sporting a chub like some sort of horny teenager. It's amazing what she is doing to you. You should be past getting hard at the mere thought of sex, but damn her sex…

* * *

She is quiet most of the remainder of the ride into the little town of Woodbridge, where you planned to get dinner and spend the night. You've booked a quaint looking bed and breakfast for the night. "Coming down from your B12 and caffeine high?"

"Yeah. Transitioning back is always the rough part. But if I can manage to stay awake, I'll be all reset tomorrow."

"I can think of lots of fun ways to keep you up, including, but not exclusively, fulfilling your request for a take-you-from-behind trifecta. Though you look a little tired for it. I can't do all the work at my age, you know."

"I'll have some coffee at dinner, don't worry, I'll be ready. And the goal is to wear myself out right before bed, so I sleep better after having to caffeinate so late. Also, I've been fucking you for ten days; you can't pull the age-card crap with me. I know you fuck like a guy half your age, despite the missing chunk of your leg."

You smile at the amount of comfort she has with your leg now. It's just a matter of fact, and despite your enjoyment of abusing the cripple card in everyday life, the last place you want to be treated like a cripple is in your bed.

"Little Greg has always had a big appetite. If you had met me 25 years ago... well, you'd have been five." You blow out one cheek and pass the air from one cheek to the other, trying to come up with a less awful way of saying that. You exhale as a better phrasing comes to you. Allison giggles at you.

"Okay, let me try that again, for the sake of argument let's say you have the Tardis and you go back in time to meet twenty-five-year-old Greg with two working legs. I promise you, you'd been the one limping at this point. So relative to myself, I fuck like a fifty year old."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her settle back into her seat. Her mind drawing an image of your time-travel scenario. "That thought is actually really hot. I'd be the older woman. Not quite a cougar, but still, I would have fun mentoring twenty-five-year-old you. Too bad I don't have a way to time travel. Then when you met me in our normal timeline, I would become this reminder of the lost mystery lover from your past, only you'd think I couldn't be her, because I was so young and a brunett. But you wouldn't have been able to resist me because of it and you would have not been able to resist taking me over your desk, or in the lab, or maybe the clinic."

She is very much enjoying her little fictional scenario with former-boss you. She's probably getting wet.

"Did you think about me doing those things to you, back when you worked for me?" You ask.

"Everyday." She answers.

"And if I had just pushed you over my desk, rough, no questions asked?" Reaching down to your crotch, you make an adjustment to help content the hardon that is starting to press against your jeans.

"You would have found me wet and ready for you." There she goes using her low whisper prick tease voice. Such a nice, quiet tone, to use for such a dirty statement.

Suddenly you feel like the temperature rose a couple of degrees. "Damn. Not sure if that's true or you're lying to make me hot, but if we don't change the subject I am going to have to pull over and fuck you."

Her hand finds its way to the bulge that is starting to manifest itself in your pants. She strokes you roughly through the fabric and continues telling you her fantasies daring you to make good on your threat.

"I used to argue with you just to get you worked up, and I wanted you to get so pissed that you'd call me into your office, close the blinds, lock the doors and demand that I lay over your lap. Then you would pull my pants and panties halfway down my legs and spank me for my disrespectful behavior. Once my ass was reddened to your liking, you'd find me wet. Then you'd finger fuck me 'til I came on your fingers. You'd tell me to get on my knees and to put my defiant mouth to better use. First you'd have me suck my come off of your fingers, then you'd unceremoniously pull out your hard prick and tell me you are going to fuck my mouth. I'd take you in all the way and you'd grab my hair and show me the pace you wanted, then before you would come, you'd order me to get up and strip. You'd turn on music so no one could hear and you'd lay my back over your desk, pull my legs around you and fuck me hard and fast. Our bodies would slap together and your balls would smack my ass so hard, I'd wonder how it didn't hurt you. Then right before we both came, you'd bend down and kiss me hard to stifle our screams."

She has your pants opened now, your erection free for her hands to stroke. You begin looking for a place to pull over. "God dammit, Cameron." Your use of her surname causes her to let out a little moan, knowing you are now thinking of her as your young employee rather than your girlfriend. You hear the click of her seatbelt.

"Don't wreck, Dr. House." She says, as she turns in her seat and positions her face over your lap. "Fucking bucket seats and center consoles suck. We should have taken your car, it's a piece of shit, but its front seats are way better for making out." Then despite the challenge of the terrain, her mouth is on your cock causing you to grunt, as you strain to keep your eyes on the road.

You keep both hands on the wheel, your knuckles turning white from the force of your grip. It's been at least ten years since you've had a driving blow job and fuck you'd forgotten how intense it is. "You're going to fucking kill us Dr. Cameron… and we are going to end up being some interesting dinner story for some other ER doctor… but don't you dare fucking stop now. Your dirty mouth needs to finish what it started."

You're not going to last long. The whole thing is too intense. Your driving pace has slowed, and cars are starting to file in behind you. As you enter a passing zone, a couple of cars take the opportunity to go around you. As they pass so closely by, you keep your eyes glued forward and the intensity amps up to a notch you didn't think was possible as you wonder if they can see Cameron bent over your lap. Your whole body is white hot as you explode and your vision goes white for just a second. You keep your focus on the road, waiting to come back down from the high as Cameron, with no care for who can see from the neighboring cars, repositions herself back in her seat, buckles back up and checks her hair and makeup in the sun visor's mirror.

"Uh, you just going to leave Little Greg hanging out?" She's left you open and damp.

"I thought I'd let him calm down a bit before I stuffed him back in your pants. Besides, it is probably easier if I take the wheel for a few seconds and let you do it. Taking him out in this position is far easier and less dangerous than putting him back."

"I see your point. Take the wheel." She grabs the wheel and steers for a moment to allow you to reposition your clothes and put away your cock. Once situated you take back control of the car and resume a normal pace to the bed and breakfast.

"See, I'm all awake again. I just needed a simulant." She's very pleased with herself and she should be. That wasn't something you had wanted, but you are really fucking glad it happened. It was dangerous as hell though.

"I can't believe you just did that. We could have wrecked." You try to sound a little mad, but fail miserably because it was just too mind blowing and you're not sorry she did it.

"Since when do you follow the rules?" She asks. "It's way more fun to break them and see what happens."

You reach over with your right hand and lace your fingers with hers. "I really should have spanked you, and often." Pulling her hand up to your mouth, you plant a kiss on the back of it. "I let you grow up to become a wicked woman."

"Your mistake, Dr. House. Now you have to deal with the consequences." She's smugg, because you both know how much you enjoy the consequences.

"Gladly, Dr. Cameron."

Your banter is interrupted by her GPS alerting you to make a turn. Following its orders, a few minutes later, you pull into the lot of the bed and breakfast. You each grab a bag and head inside to check in.

You are met by an older couple of gentleman, probably in their sixties, as you enter the foyer of the two story victorian style home. One is a taller gentleman, medium build, with fair skin and light freckles, just shy of your height. His hair is a mix of browns, auburns and grey. Laugh lines dance around his dark brown eyes. The other is a few inches shorter, has a slight build, with fully white hair, and hazel eyes that take on a blue tint, thanks to the blue oxford shirt he is wearing. His face, though still marked with age, makes you believe he is a few years younger then his friend.

"Greg and Allison?" The shorter man asks.

"That's us." Allison answers for you, and drops her bag to shake each of their hands. You don't offer, instead leaning on your cane and keeping a firm grip on your bag.

"I'm John and this is David. Welcome to the Carriage House. You're the last guests to check in for the night." He states as explanation to how he knows who you are, and motions to a standing desk area to the right of the entrance, which was just left of the entrance to a formal dining room. The taller man, David, steps behind the desk and pulls out some paperwork and two keys. There is no computer to be seen, although you had made the reservations via a website.

Handing them to you, David gives you the spiel. "You'll be in the Blue Room, which is just down that hall" pointing to his left, he indicates which direction "last door on the right. Breakfast is at 8:30 a.m. sharp. If you have any dietary restrictions now's the time to speak up, otherwise, you'll eat the cooks pleasure."

"We're pretty low maintenance." Allison answers, and you nod.

John leans his elbow on the desk and leans forward to Allsion with a wink. "I see his the strong and silent type. They are always the fun ones."

She smiles at his not so subtle hint that he's gay. Of course, it is left for you to follow that he and David are a couple. You look to their hands and they are wearing simple matching silver bands. "Oh, he's very strong, but you should enjoy the silence while it lasts." Allison winks back at you, you reply by sticking out your tongue.

John laughs at the way the two of you play together and Allison asks "Could either of you recommend a place for us to go for dinner? Something casual."

David answers "I'd say your best bet is the Corner Diner. The food is simple but well prepared, and the service is generally fast and friendly. They aren't generally too busy this time of year, so chances are you won't have a long wait. Only catch is they are cash only, but there is an ATM available if you need it."

"Great. Thank you." She shakes their hands once more and you head back to the room to drop off your luggage. The room, as its name would indicate, is very blue. Blue walls, blue floral wallpaper border, blue comforter on the king sized poster bed and a blue couch. Like the rest of the house, the floor is a medium maple hardwood, with elaborate rugs protecting it from the furniture.

You spend no more time in the room than it takes to set down your bags, and each visit the bathroom. As you come out, you find that Allison has pulled up a map to the Corner Diner on her phone. "Looks like it's only a couple of blocks from here. We can walk."

"Sounds good, I'm starving." You say, as you exit the room and lock it behind you. You stuff the key in the pocket of your leather jacket and take her hand.

The evening is settling in and the sun is setting. It is a beautiful night to walk hand in hand with a beautiful woman.

"So John and David seem like a cute couple." She begins. "It must be nice for guys their age to be able to be open and, by the looks of it, married. Although, John seems to be a little taken with you."

Smirking at her, you play along "I like younger men, so Wilson has nothing to worry about. Besides, that guy is also totally the bottom, so I don't think we're compatible. I only switch hit with girls; they have much prettier asses." You drop her hand to pinch her ass, causing her to jump and turn to smack you on the chest.

"Hey don't damage the merchandise! How can you get full price for me if my best feature is all bruised?" She mock pouts at you before taking your hand again as you continue walking towards the diner.

"I'm still breaking you in, so I can mark you for now." This earns you a raised eyebrow as you continue your walk.

"That looks like the place." She points ahead to a little dive, which as the name suggests, is a typical looking diner, on the corner of the block.

Entering the diner, you observe a sign with instructions to seat yourself. The place has about ten booths, about the same number of tables and bar seating. About a quarter of the tables and booths are open, and you point your cane towards an empty booth in the way back of the room. Allison nods and leads the way, sliding in the seat facing away from the doors. You slide in opposite her and find some menus tucked behind an old-school table juke box. Handing one to Allison, you begin to peruse the menu.

The waitress is quick to the table and suggest that anyone new to the establishment should go with the burger. You both take her advice, and you tell her three times to hold the pickles for yours.

Once the order is placed you are left alone with your date. This is the part you've been dreading. For some reason, the idea of a date makes you get nervous and clam up. You hate small talk and you aren't sure what to talk about besides work or sex. But at some point, you need to get past it. You managed to do it with Stacy, but you can't for the life of you remember when it became something you did easily, it just happened at some point. You assume, at some point the same will be true with Allison. But this is one area you are happy to let her take the lead. One thing is for sure, it has to turn out better than the first solo dinner date.

"I know that look, Greg. It was bad news last time I saw it."

"Yeah, well, I've never been good at dating and small talk."

"We talked most of the way here."

"That was different. We were in a car." Letting out a deep laugh at your logic that lights up her eyes, she takes your hand from across the table.

"Okay, as I recall, I should skip the Freud. How about we each tell a story from our childhood? Something from our pre-teenage years. That should be safe from sex talk, or at least I really hope it is." She sobers herself with that statement, the doctor in her knowing that one never knows what kind of terrible things a person might be hiding.

"Yeah, I had some crappy shit happen to me as a kid, but thankfully nothing like that."

"Good. I would hate to have stepped in a big pile of shit again this time around." Looking relieved, she resumes more lightheartedly. "So one fun story from before the age of thirteen, then. Do you want to go first or should I?"

"Knock yourself out." You say. Not sure yet what you have to share with her.

"Okay, let me see." She looks down at the table for a moment, thinking of something, then a smile creeps across her face as she decides on a tale to tell you.

"I've always been very curious about how and why things work the way they work, and even at a very young age I was rather scientific with how I approached problem solving.

"When I was maybe four or five years old, I was staying with my aunt for the day. She was a stay at home mom, but she also worked out of her home occasional as a stylist, to earn extra money. Anyway, big hair was just becoming a thing, right, which required a ton of hairspray. I was curious if water could be substituted for whatever was in hairspray.

"I had no idea why it worked the way it worked, so I decided to do an experiment. I took one of her bottles, and dumped it and refilled it with water. Then I observed the result of her using the bottle that still had hairspray verse the one without."

It amuses you greatly to think of baby Allie, setting up her little experiment on her unsuspecting test subjects. "Oh I bet she and her clients were just thrilled with being involved in a double blind study on the adhesive properties of hairspray versus that of plain tap water."

"Oh, you could say that. I had no idea what a double blind study was at the time, but it just seemed like a good way to answer my curiosity." She smiles.

"My aunt was pissed and embarrassed because she completely wetted the clients hair down before she noticed. The client was really polite and kept telling her that kids are kids. I was confused by my aunt's reaction because I had no intention of doing something bad. I just really wanted to know what would happen. She told mom, and I got a lecture that I didn't quite understand, spanked and couldn't watch TV for a couple of nights. I think the only reason I even remember it is because it was the only time I ever got punished that I honestly had no clue why everyone was upset.

"Now I think it is funny, because, it's actually pretty cool that I stumbled onto a legitimate scientific method pre-kindergarten. I just needed more test subjects to do it right."

You give her a rare genuine broad smile. "God, I bet you were adorable." Then it is quickly erased as you decide you don't like the idea she was punished for something that cool. "I can't believe you got spanked for that. Honestly, I can't believe you ever were spanked. I thought kids your age were born in a time where corporal punishments were frowned upon by society at large."

"Na, I grew up in the midwest—spare the rod, spoil the child. They never really hurt me. Just a few smacks on my butt every once and awhile. Mostly it was just to make their point quickly, and the real punishment was a ban from TV or when I was older, from going out with friends for the weekend."

"I would have given you a treat for being smart and told your aunt to shove it and to not be an idiot. Hairspray smells nothing like water. She shouldn't have gotten past three sprays before figuring out she need to switch bottles, and at that point how much harm could it have done? You obviously didn't get your powers of observation from her side of the gene pool, that or they just skipped her over."

Her eyes lit up as you defended her actions, and a grin tugs at the side of her lips as she thinks about what you've said. You'd give her more than a penny for her thoughts right now, but now she shifts the focus to you.

"Okay, that's my story. Your turn."

You still have no idea what story to share with her. Most of your time as a kid was spent playing music, or doing something that ended up getting you a much worse punishment than a smack on the ass. You had the same streak of curiosity, but it seemed to be a daily source of trouble. What to tell her?

Sensing your struggle, she offers some help. "You know, ever since that case we had where the wife was poisoning her husband with gold dust, I've been curious about your mummy hunting story. Why don't you tell me about that?"

Well, you suppose that is as good a story as any. And it also reminds you of her comment during that same case about the occasional threesome being healthy for a long term relationship. Filing that bit away for future reference, you begin your story.

"Well, Dad was stationed in Egypt and it was a longer posting so we moved with him. I was eight or nine, probably either at some point. When Mom first told me we were moving I was excited. Then once we moved, it didn't take long for me to realize that there was nothing much for a kid to do on base. So I got some books about the area and developed this fascination with the concept of mummies and mummification.

"I started out by going out into the desert area just behind the base and played archaeologist roping off areas to excavate. Of course, I failed to find anything of interest. Some trash here and there, but nothing more than a few years old.

"So then I moved on and started reading everything I could get my hands on about the process of mummification. I was actually able to procure most of the chemicals from various shops and street merchants in the local town. So I moved on from trying to find mummies to trying to make mummies."

"Really?" She interrupts with a look of concern. "Please don't tell me you starting killing random pets and street animals for some sort of mad science experiment."

You laugh once at her, wondering if you should say something snide about how both of you benefit everyday from animal experiments, but decided now is not the time, she's obviously in girlfriend rather than doctor mode.

"No. I just collected dead mice from traps, and the occasional road kill cat." You tell her truthfully, because at the time you really didn't have it in you to kill an animal, even for science.

Allison looks grossed out, with her cute little nose wrinkling as if she could smell some sort of rotted animal. Rolling your eyes, you continue with your story.

"I was a little boy. Dead animals were a normal curiosity." You defend. "But instead of poking sticks at them, like a typical boy my age, with a typical IQ," You wave your hands in front of you like you are a magician introducing a new trick, "I tried to mummify them."

"A few of my later attempts were actually successful, at least as for as I long as could observe them. We never stayed in a place for more than a couple of years. I think three years was our record. I've always wanted to go back and see if my mummies are still there. I buried them behind the base. Maybe at the very least, I helped some future bored genius kid, stuck in a military family, by giving them mummies to find."

She cocks her head to the side with a strange little grin, staring at you but past you. "I'm trying to imagine you as a kid." Focusing back in on your eyes, she says with some excitement "I want to see some pictures. I bet you were cute as hell with wild dark hair and fierce blue eyes raining havoc in the form of unsatisfiable curiosity pared with a willingness to do anything to solve your puzzles."

You've never heard your childhood self summed up so well, or referred to in an endearing way by anyone but your mother, but even she didn't think your making mummies was cute. Weird maybe, but not cute.

"I am pretty sure my parents, or at the very least, my father, found very little of my behavior 'cute.'" More that pretty sure. You know he didn't.

She continues. "Well, the roadkill thing is gross, but trying to make mummies is totally cute—to a doctor at least. I mean if we didn't like dissecting dead things, I doubt either of us would have chosen our career path. I just wouldn't want to have to work with day old roadkill." She wrinkles her nose again, and you'd like to kiss it.

Your burger arrives, open faced and you are pleased to find no pickles on it or on your plate. Allison, on the other hand, picks up one of hers and places it in her mouth seductively, much to your displeasure. You make the same face back to her that she had made earlier. "I can't believe I kiss you. That is so disgusting."

"Delicious, you mean. I love pickles." Chewing it slowly, she makes a show of her enjoyment of the taste, licking its juice off her fingers at the end.

You enjoy the show, but continue to feign disgust. "And you called me gross. Hide those things under the bun before I lose my appetite."

With a smirk, she does as you ask and the two of you eat in companionable silence. The burgers are good. Not over cooked, seasoned well, and included a side of some sort of house sauce that is similar to ranch dressing with a twist that you can't quite figure out. They come with super thin and crunchy fries, which are your favorite style. After finishing yours, you steal as many as you can from the remainder on Allisons plate, getting a playful hand slap each time you reach over to steal another bite, but no real deterrent from her.

Once finished you skip dessert, payout and start the trek back to the Carriage House. The long day is taking its toll on Allison and she is quickly becoming the walking dead.

Back in your room, she hits the bathroom first, brushes her teeth, takes out her contacts and washes her face. You follow after her, and when you finish you come back to the bedroom to find her in her underwear fast asleep on top of the coverlet, lying sideways across the bed.

So much for the 'take-you-from-behind trifecta' you muse with a smile as you enjoy the sight of her. You don't want to wake her, but you can't sleep with her like that. Walking to the bed, you reach down and pick her up. She weighs so little, you manage to be able to move her to the couch for a moment without really waking her. You pull back the covers and pick her up once again to place her back into the bed the right way. She puts her arms around your neck, not really aware, and she snuggles herself against you. Placing her in the bed on her side, you tuck the covers around her and kiss her forehead.

You've had a good day. Your pain levels have been low, and manageable. You solved a case. You had a really good session with Nolan and you've have a great start to your weekend. The best part is she was involved to some degree in all of it.

Sitting on the couch, you watch her a long while before stripping down to your boxer briefs. You turn out the lights and crawl into bed behind her, hugging her against the front of your body. Her body heat feels wonderful to all of you, but especially your right thigh. Burying your nose into her hair, you breath her in and let yourself enjoy the feeling of contentment as you drift to sleep.


	13. Morning Glory and Sweet Seventeen

_Note: Hope folks weren't too worried I'd never return from vacation. I got caught up again in a story with no ending today and am reminded to do my best to not do that to others._

 _Thanks again to everyone who has taken a moment to review or follow the story. I am pretty self motivated to impose my will on other people's toys, but it is still really nice to know that my little Hameron obsession is shared and that my story is being enjoyed by others. And as always a huge thanks to my beta_ _astavares. I do make a reference to "_ _I Saw Her Standing There" by Paul McCartney and John Lennon (if somehow you don't know this song go to youtube dot com slash watch?v=Fk0sY_WiCpA). It's not mine any more than House is, but thanks for letting me play._

* * *

Chapter 13: Morning Glory and Sweet Seventeen

You wake up to the sound of a door unlocking, opening and closing. For a moment you are disoriented, waking up to the sea of blue that is your room, until you remember you are on vacation. You stretch out, finding you are alone in the bed and you roll over to see Alison in her running gear—skin-tight three-quarter length black spandex workout pants, a tight blue tank top and sports bra, kicking off her grey and pink Nike Air Max and tugging her iPod earbuds from her ears. She is covered in a sheen of sweat, her damp hair pulled back in a ponytail, obviously just returning from a morning run.

Glancing at the room's alarm clock on the bedside table, you see it is 7:30 a.m.. She still hasn't noticed you're awake, or if she has, she hasn't acknowledged you. However, your morning wood is quite acutely aware of her. Her fresh layer of sweat fills the room with her natural smell and pheromones, and you let out a groan as she begins peeling off her tight clothing. Hardly aware of your actions, your hand has found your cock and is beginning to slowly stroke it. As she bends over to shed her pants, you are given a full view of her perfect ass and her delicious labia. Turning as she kicks off the last of her clothing, she smirks at you and, having heard your groan, is not surprised at your current actions.

"Good morning." She states simply, smiling broadly at your obvious reaction to her.

"It would be better if you'd come back to bed. My penis seems to have a serious condition and I need a doctor to help me cure it." Throwing back the covers, you slide off your underwear to reveal your throbbing dick.

She approaches the bed with a sway to her hips and you roll over to your back allowing her to to climb on top of you. You know there'll be no kissing, since you are sure you have hellacious morning breath, given your meal last night. She wastes no time with your "treatment," taking your cock in hand as soon as she is astride you and positions the tip at her entrance.

"Fuck me. You're already so wet." You say as she lowers herself at a languorous rate. She is tight, and wet, and hotter that normal thanks to her run. You feel like you might explode before she even has enveloped you fully.

"Seeing how hard I make you, makes me wet. Being around you in general makes me wet." She sits on you, not moving for what seems like an eternity, then begins to flex herself around you and you respond with a contraction of your own. After riding the wave for a few more moments, she begins to move, slowly milking you, squeezing you in time with her strokes. You move one hand from its position gripping her hips to where your bodies meet and gather the lubrication there on your thumb before applying it to her clit. You can feel it twitch and throb under your strokes. Her whole body arches back in response, changing the angle of penetration slightly causing more friction for both of you. "Uuuhhh. God yeah." Groaning you toss your head back to the pillow and close your eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the warm sensations coursing through your whole body.

The pace is still deliciously slow. You've both found the grove, that place where you feel like you could come at any second, but you don't and you both can just keep riding the wave. You look up again. Damn, she is beautiful. Her whole body giving into the pleasure of sex—sex with you. Her nipples are erect, her fingers toy with them, hips rocking as her stomach muscles contract. You sit up then, press your body to hers, both wrapping your arms around one another, and you trail kisses on her neck, still being careful of the rash. Rocking gently with her, you enjoy the closeness of your bodies.

After a few moments, the need to amp up the intensity overwhelms you. You roll her over, and hook her legs over your arms pushing her knees toward her shoulders as you begin your own slow thrusts at an angle that you know will hit her g-spot. Her body arches in response, telling you you've reached your goal. You pick up speed, knowing that this morning you'll be able to last a long time, even while pounding her hard.

"Oooh, Greg that's it. Yeah, baby, harder."

You are happy to comply, pounding into her, every stroke eliciting a scream. The bed is creaking, and the headboard is beginning to rack against the wall. You don't care who hears, and you don't care if you break the bed. You'll be happy to pay that bill. She is getting closer and her body tries to stiffen as she grabs the sheets, you don't relent your assault on her. Her eyes snap open in alarm and for a second you think you may be hurting her, but they snap shut again and she screams your name out in orgasm. You feel a surging wetness around your stomach and groin as you fall over the edge just behind her.

Her whole body is shaking and her pussy is contracting around you. After a moment it becomes clear you've made her ejaculate. 'Cool,' you think, 'didn't know she was a squirter.' By the looks of her, she didn't know either. Even more cool. Moving your arms to allow her to straighten her legs, she still shakes against you. Touching her elicits more moans of pleasure. You take a nipple in your mouth and hear a sharp intake of air and another low moan. Trailing kisses up to her ear, still perched over her, you tell her "That's it baby. Ride it out. God, you are so beautiful this way."

Your bladder is screaming at you now, as is your leg, but you are mesmerised by Allison's orgasm. Her eyes finally began to open, and her body stills. She looks up at you, almost embarrassed. Smiling back, you ask "Has anyone ever made you ejaculate before?" Fairly certain you know the answer.

Biting her lower lip, she shakes her head 'no.' Her cheeks redden even more. "God, that is so cool." You say, with the same cocky and contented look you get from solving a case that no one else can. It's empowering knowing you did that to her and that you are the only one who ever has. Rolling off of her reluctantly, you succumb to nature's call. "I really want to hold you after that, but I also really have to pee."

With that you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Standing up with some effort you make your way to the bathroom.

You meander out to breakfast a few minutes early after a quick shower and a double dose of Ibuprofen, dressed in jeans and your favorite purple t-shirt, leaving Allison blowdrying her hair. Quite certain your morning performance was likely heard by one and all, you can't manage to don your normal morning scowl. Instead, a cheeky, perhaps even cocky, grin spreads across your scruffy features as you take a seat at the currently empty breakfast table. John, catches a glimpse of you from the adjoining kitchen, and brings in coffee, offering some, while biting back a huge grin and raising an eyebrow. "I trust you're having a good morning so far, Greg." He says with a wink. "Coffee?"

"Yeah. Sugar?" You ask.

"Here." He hands you a small dish of sugar from the center of the table. "But, I'd say you're plenty sweet already, and something tells me Allison would agree." You smile at him then. You can't help it. It's hard to not be happy after doing something you've only ever seen in porn, and of course with the one stripper you picked specifically because she listed it as a talent. You still remember the look on Wilson's face when she did it as a piece of performance art at his second (first you had thrown him) bachelor party. But it's not even the same level of awesomeness as this morning.

You've never managed to make that happen with a girlfriend before today. Not from a lack of trying, but not all women are so… responsive to their bodies, or by some accounts even biologically able to come like that. It's now your new goal. The fact she couldn't control her screams in this sort of public setting, was just icing on the cake. She might hate you when you are done with her this morning, but no way you're not wearing that orgasm like a badge of honor. John, seems to agree with you, if his blushing school-boy looks and innuendos are anything to go by.

"Well, what can I say? She likes to have her dessert before breakfast. I hate to deny her." As you stir in your sugar a couple enters the room. They look to be in their mid 30's. Taking the seats across from you, John offers them coffee as well, and making a quick introduction. "Rachel and Marcus, meet Greg. Greg, Rachel and Marcus." Not far behind them you see Allison enter the room. She slides in the chair beside you, her cheeks still flashing rose tones that are only highlighted by the formfitting red tee she is wearing with her low rise skinny jeans, knowing all too well everyone at the table knows she was thoroughly laid this morning. Her hair is down, and the layers fall gracefully around her face. You catch her eyes, which are a stormy grey this morning and pass a knowing look.

Continuing his introductions, John calls over to her. "Oh, and there's Allison. Allison this is Rachel and Marcus, our other guests." To her credit, she greeted everyone with her normal broad smile and full eye contact. The younger couple across from you fight to contain their smirks as they returned her greeting. John, who you are beginning to really like, continues his teasing with her. "Your color looks great this morning, Allison. It must be your morning workout routine. It really is the best time to get the blood pumping and jump start your day. Do you take coffee as well?"

"Yes thank you, and with a little cream." Still maintaining her composure despite being stuck in a room full of people who heard her screaming a half-hour before, she answers John and watches him fill her cup three-quarters of the way, leaving room for her cream.

John looks to you once more, again biting back his smile.

"Let me get the cream for you honey." You tease, as Rachel hands you the creamer, which she had just finished using, with a blush. "I don't know about your little lady, Marco, but mine just can't seem to get enough cream in her little cup this morning."

This earns you a little bit of a glare from Marcus, not liking the idea of his woman being suddenly the one at the center of everyone's little unspoken joke. "Oh, I'm sorry. Were you out of cream earlier this morning? My bad." It may be fun to have a laugh at Allison's expense, but she's not going to be the sole victim of your wit and everyone else's this morning.

Being ever the professional host, John deflects your conversation, to relieve the tension in the room caused by your last couple of comments. Allison, seems content to just watch the fireworks and sip her coffee, knowing she can't really stop you even if she makes a scene. You suppose she has learned to just roll her eyes and go on, much like Wilson. It takes a lot to ruffle his feathers these days.

"So, Marcus and Rachel, what brings you here? Vacation? Business? Just passing through?" John asks and the conversation turns to small talk, which you hate.

Their answers are as boring and typical as they are, a picture of suburban bliss with white picket fences, two-point-five kids, a dog and a cat. Blah, blah. Visiting her mom and dad for dear old dad's 60th. They could at least make up something fun to embellish their tale. For your part you have a strict policy of making up as crazy a story as you can, just to see if anyone calls you on it. They never do. It's too impolite. People will cut their friends in two if it suites them, but they will bend over backwards to be polite to total strangers. It's something you have never been able to wrap your genius mind around.

"How about you guys?" The question gets turned to you as David begins serving everyone Eggs Benedict with seasoned red potatoes. Much to your good fortune, Allison has just stuffed a bite in her mouth leaving you to spin a magical tale of young love and romance in place of the boring truth. Well, not entirely boring, but not nearly as awesome as what you have in mind.

"We're celebrating two anniversaries—our first date and our finding of one another again after circumstances forced us to separate for many years." A partial truth, as the best lies are well grounded in the truth. Allison smiles as she chews, looking a little shocked and confused, but pleasantly so. The only question now is will she play along with your next statement or smack you and tell them the boring truth.

John, who has taken the seat at the head of the table, waxes romantic at your comment and probes for more details. "Oh, Greg that's really nice. How did you meet? What happened?"

"Well," you continue "I guess you could say we were sort of highschool sweethearts."

"Greg?" Allison questions with a look of warning and you quickly quiet her with a peck on the lips and a wink.

"Now honey, there is nothing to be ashamed of. We're both adults now and we couldn't help how we felt then, anymore than we can now." She raises an eyebrow, and shakes her head, but concedes to play along.

"I was her AP Biology teacher her senior year. She was all set to be valedictorian of her class and was by far the best student I've ever taught. Keen mind for biology." Tapping your finger to your temple, you give Allison a wink as you continue.

"My best friend, who was the only person I confided my feelings in, thought I was just a thirty-seven year old having an early mid-life crisis crush on a gorgeous young woman. But I knew even then, despite how very wrong it seemed, that she was the one. I think it was mostly how she would argue with me in class, like a vicious little dog who already had all of the answers. I made sure to challenge her in ways no other teacher had and she hated me for it." You smirk at her, knowing she's evaluating the amount of truth you've spun in, if any.

Taking a bite of your Benedict, you open the door for her to put an end to the game or toss her hat in the ring. You remember back to the dinner party with Lydia. She was as into the game as you, and it had made you fall for her more. If Wilson were here, he would play too. He could come off as a total prude sometimes, but you've never had a better wingman.

"Hate is the wrong emotion, dear. Turned on, and therefore defensive, is more accurate. It is hard to harbor feelings that you know everyone else finds inappropriate for your mentor and teacher while also trying to earn his respect for your mind when, all the while, your body constantly wants to betray you by jumping him in the middle of class." Her comment earns a smile from you. John is enthralled, obviously a fan of stories with naughty details. Marcus is rolling his eyes, clearly put off by the idea, but Rachel, on the other hand, has a little sparkle in her eye as she pipes in.

"God, I had the hots for my English teacher my senior year. He had the nicest ass and always wore Dockers that hugged it in all the right places. The way he talked about Hemingway just made me melt." This statement earned her a real sour look from her husband, but she just blew it off, obviously waxing as romantic as John. David just watched the show with a quiet amusement from the opposite end of the table as John, sitting back and sipping his coffee as his patrons enjoyed his most excellent cooking and your story.

"Yeah, older men have always done it for me. But Greg, well the students all called him 'House'," She pinches you playfully with the use of your last name "was beyond a crush. The way his mind solves problems, and the cute way he purses his lips when he is on the verge of a good idea… it was nearly impossible to not want to kiss him. But he was completely professional. I was seventeen after all." She resumes eating, pleased enough with her performance.

"Well, I may have been professional, but I am still a man and she made it hard to resist her. Hiking up her skirt and always unbuttoning an extra button on her top, I can't count the number of times she made me point out her violations of dress code. Oh, and she basically blackmailed me to go out on a date with her. I mean, the legal age of consent back in Illinois is seventeen, so I wasn't facing criminal charges, but it is definitely against any school's policy for a teacher to date a student."

"Blackmailed?" She asks you incredulously, even though that is the truest part of the story so far.

"You threatened to drop my class unless we did something about 'this.'" You answered, with a 'duh' look.

"So, anyway, I couldn't let her drop a class she needed to get in the best pre med programs. So, despite my better judgement, I invited her to have dinner at my place. Unfortunately her parents caught wind, because she just _had_ to tell her _besty_." You roll your eyes at her mockingly, as if to admonish her youthful trusting nature. "When her father found us in... let's say, a rather compromising position, I was forced to leave Allison, my home and my job quietly or face a public scandal while trying to find a new line of work."

David takes another drink of his coffee. He's not buying your story at all, but is enjoying the show none the less. John and Rachel are on the edge of their seats, enthralled in your romantic tale and Marcus, looks pretty disgusted by the whole idea. Probably because he mentioned having daughters, but for fear of his wife, seems to be content to keep his comments to himself.

"So, that's when you were separated? How long were you apart? How did you meet again?" John asks, addressing Allison.

You smile at her, hoping she makes it a good one. It is so incredibly sexy when a chick can weave a great lie. "Well," she starts "my father almost beat poor Greg to an inch of his life, mainly because Greg refused to hit him back. I pulled him off finally and begged him not to turn Greg in to the board of education. He told Greg that if he really loved me, he wouldn't ruin my life and told him to move or he'd make sure he wouldn't work as a teacher again, on top of never seeing me again. I promised Greg I would find him again before my father dragged me out of Greg's arms." She pets the side of your face, pretending to remember. Damn, she is actually a pretty good little actress. What else don't you know about her?

"Dad transferred me to another school the next week and then I was off to college. Greg disappeared and I lost him for twelve years. It wasn't for a lack of trying to find him. He moved states more than once and, before the internet was a big thing, it wasn't so easy to keep track of people."

Rachel interjects; visibly saddened by Allison's performance. "Oh, that is so sad. Couldn't he see how much you loved each other? I mean it is _so_ obvious how in love you are, with the way you two look at one another." Wait... obvious?

Dropping her eyes from yours at the comment, Allison attempts to hide her reaction to the L word, while simultaneously and purposefully avoiding observing your reaction. You know she has been accused a million times of being in love with you, and you know on some level it frustrates her that she is so transparent. You've only be accused of harboring affection for her a handful of times and mostly by Wilson, and once or twice by Cuddy very early on in Cameron's fellowship. Every other time made you want to deny it or prove them wrong. You slammed the door on the feeling before it could take root, but now…

You reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear. "We're that obvious, huh?" She looks over to you and you give her a look that you hope conveys that you've been caught, and you're okay with that. It's the best you can do for now, because you've promised yourself no more jesting about being in love. You'll tell her the words when you're ready, but now's not the time.

She smiles back and it is reaching her eyes, softening their color with hints of green. Hazel eyes have always amazed you; like chameleons they seem to change color with their owner's clothing or mood. Her eyes have always mesmerised you. The affection and heat that was always just below the surface is even more intense since you've become a couple.

"You could say that. I think we could heat this place in the winter with the looks the two of you keep giving one another." John adds with a saucy grin. "So, anyway, twelve years is a long time. How did you end up back together after all of that time?"

"Well, I had an old college friend who was a prof at her university, so she would drop me emails every so often, letting me know how my star pupil was fairing. She only had a vague idea about us, but she never asked and I didn't tell, and she never let Allison know I was checking up on her. Then she was off to med school and I lost track of her until about a year ago, thanks to Facebook. The internet is a crazy thing. She friended a friend of mine, I came up as a suggested friend for her, and she messaged me. Turns out we both ended up in Princeton. I teach at a community college there, and she works in an ER. We made a date for exactly the same day as our disastrous first date and now we've been together a year." You take her hand and give her another wink for being awesome and playing along with you.

"God! That is so romantic, it's like the stars aligned for true love." John says, grabbing your other hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Oh, come on John, you're being overly dramatic." David finally speaks, trying to rein in his swooning lover. "You're always such a sucker for romance and unrequited love stories."

"You like it. You'll get to reap the benefits later." John winks at his partner and gets a sigh in return.

Not long after, you head back to your bedroom and as soon as you are both through the threshhold, you turn around and press Allison against the door. You brush her hair back from her ear and lean in, softly singing "Well, she was just seventeen; You know what I mean; And the way she looked was way beyond compare" then sucked in her earlobe gently. "God, Allison, knowing you can lie like that is so..." you bite her neck, "very…" lick her pulse point, "fucking hot." Placing your forehead against hers, you press your good leg between hers and rub yourself against her. "Thank you for going with me out there; I hate small talk. Our story, was epic."

"House, I don't know why you think I can't lie, or that I have some sort of 'insane moral compass' that precludes me being able to be dishonest. I had to lie to patients nearly every day I worked for you." She kisses you back. Working slowly on your neck, her hands wander up under your shirt as she lifts it over your head and begins planting kisses the length of your clavicle.

"Yeah, but this is different. It was creative and spontaneous lying. Not just you delivering a predetermined line for the greater 'good of the patient.'" Not one to be the most naked, you grab the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head and then make quick work of her bra, tossing it to the floor with your shirts.

"Like you are fond of saying, the best lies are laced with the truth." Kissing you, she begins working on your pants and you, hers.

Your second session of the morning was slow and emotionally intense. You laid her down on her back, and let her hair pool on the pillows and drank her in. No bed thumping, no crazy positions, no screaming, just slow and steady thrusts, soft kisses and long lingering looks.

You hold her to you after you finish, both on your sides facing one another, both still planting soft kisses on the other. Nuzzling into her neck, you sing again, nearly a whisper, "We danced through the night; And we held each other tight; And before too long I fell in love with her." Then pulling her even closer to you, you hear her reply. "I love you too."


	14. Family Time

Chapter 14: Family Time

It is a quiet ride most of the way into Brooklyn. You plugged your iPod into her stereo moments after leaving the B&B, hit random and since then, neither of you has offered any conversation not pertaining to the drive. Allison took over the driving duties because, having been to the destination many times, she is familiar with any alternate routes that might be needed, if traffic becomes an issue. Also, it will make it easier to drop you off at the curb since finding parking near their home might be an issue.

She looks contented, but her guard is up, much like your own. It's a foregone conclusion that her thoughts are similar to yours. Reaching over the center console, you brush her arm to indicate you'd like to hold her hand. Her right hand lets go of the wheel and lowers allowing you to intertwine your fingers with hers. Then, propping your right elbow on the door you lean your chin on your hand as your eyes drift back to the landscape rolling past the passenger side window.

You admitted your feelings for her. It was so natural at the time, it felt right. Now, with the afterglow worn off, you wonder if you had acted rashly. There isn't doubt that you do love her, but telling her changes everything. It pulls her all in, and now… well, now you are both fully exposed and forced to trust one not to hurt the other.

It's only fair, you suppose. She's been on the limb since the night in her office. Time to climb out with her and see if maybe this will be the one that doesn't break.

Regret is something that is plaguing you right now. Logicly, you are sure that the two of you were not emotionally ready to be together five years ago. Despite your logic, you now feel like you've missed out; that your life didn't have to crash and burn. Maybe Amber didn't have to die. Would you have even met Amber? Doubtful that your team would have exploded the same way.

Stop it.

This line of thinking isn't healthy.

Focus on what's next. What should you do with the rest of your weekend? Splurge on a nice hotel room, order room service and have sex for two days? That could work. Then again, that isn't exactly the kind of getting to know you that you need to work on.

That and you're not twenty-five anymore and you are kind of afraid to try the little blue pill. You really love sex and you have an addictive personality. There are reasons it took you so long to graduate college and medical school, and skipping class for sex binges was just one of many distractions that got you into trouble. It's a good thing you can't get hard ten minutes after coming now, otherwise, you might never go to work or you'd go to work and never leave Cameron's office.

No, you need to take her somewhere that will help distract from both your libidos a little more. Meeting some of her family should be a good departure, at least. Maybe you should just keep heading north and visit your mother? You haven't seen her since the funeral. She'd be excited to meet Allison again. She had enjoyed teasing you about the way your young fellow looked at you and you were shocked at her for even joking about you dating your very young employee.

Damnit. Your mother was always so perceptive.

She would like to see you happy. Even if this doesn't last, it would give her some comfort to see you're making an effort to climb out of the pit you've been in since Stacy, to let her see you are managing to be sober. The two of you never spoke of your pain killer addiction, but she's no fool and you know she talks to Wilson.

"I was thinking about what we should do the rest of our weekend." You say, as free your hand from hers to turn down the music a few levels. Taking her hand again you continue. "How would you feel about taking a drive up to Lexington?"

She glances over at you with a curious look, obviously thinking about something. You are sure, given the amount of snooping you know you have both done in the other's personal life, and that she was around to help Wilson and Cuddy kidnap you for your father's funeral, that she is just about to place the reason why Lexington is ringing a bell.

"You want to visit your mother?" She makes the connection.

"Yeah, why not? Dad was the main reason I avoided visiting. She'll probably be really excited to meet you again. You can have that dinner you were hoping for last time you met her and you guys can get all girly over naked baby pictures and embarrassing stories from my childhood while I roll my eyes and drink her good scotch. You know, normal girlfriend/boyfriend stuff."

"I would like that. I'm just a little taken off guard, but in a good way." She says to you, then laughs. "You wanna hear something funny?"

"Okay?" You respond, confused at what she suddenly finds funny.

"Your mom will be my first official meeting of a boyfriend's parent since high school and that doesn't really count because my one official boyfriend, the one from my senior year that Mom walked in on me making out with, I'd known him and his family for years before we ever dated. Both Chase and Brian's folks were dead when we got together, and none of the other guys I dated or messed around with I ever really considered my boyfriend and so it never came up."

"Huh." Interesting it worked out that way for her. You can't imagine anyone's parents not adoring her. She's so nice, and pretty, and polite, and well… nice.

"We'll I'm sure Mom thinks it's never going to happen again, so it'll be a boat full of giggles for both of you. Besides, she'll remember you from the hospital. She liked you."

"Is that like the comment your dad made about you talking about me all of the time? Or did she actually tell you she liked me?" Remembering back to the look on Cameron's face when your father pretended to know about her to make a jab at you about never talking to them, puts a small lopsided grin on your lips. Fucking bastard. That little move, and the subsequent reaction, was all your mother needed to figure out there was something between the two of you beyond work.

"She gave me the ol' 'Dr. Cameron seems like a very nice young woman. I think she likes you.' wink wink, nod nod. So, yeah, she likes you."

"Interesting. Now I kinda wish I had gone to eat with you." She's teasing, of course. It meant a lot to you that she had not invaded your personal life. You doubt you would have afforded her the same courtesy, but then again, you might have. For whatever reason, she has always managed to get random sightings of your human side. That's probably why you never really could get her to push you away.

Of course, now she'll never really get to know your father. You never would have thought that would bother you, but since he has died, you've started thinking more about the times the two of you got along. He was a bastard, but you do respect him.

"I'm glad you got to at least meet my Dad. He, unlike my mother, was completely clueless about you. Thankfully. As I told you, we weren't exactly close, but I think, at least now that you aren't my employee, he would have really liked the idea. He always made it clear that I needed to find a nice woman to make an honest man out of me."

"Fat chance I or any other 'nice woman' will be able to do anything of the sort." She laughs and gently pulls her hands from yours back to the wheel. "There's our exit." She signals and exits the highway.

Fifteen minutes later she turns onto a tree lined residential street of turn-of-the-last-century row townhouses, all painted in pinkish colors ranging from light greys, to deep salmons and mauves. Each home was built adjacent to its neighbor and all had elaborate moldings adorning the doors and windows. Black iron fencing ran the length of both sides of the street between the sidewalk and the homes. Each seemed to be multi-family and had a set of stairs leading to the main floor with a door under the side of the main entrance's stoop to a ground level apartment.

Pulling up and double parking in front of one of the homes, she says "Let me drop you and the bags off. Looks like I'm going to have to park further down the block." Putting on her flashers, she pops the trunk and gets out, with you following behind her. She grabs both bags and runs to set them in front of a gate then points to the home beyond it. "That's it; seven sixty-eight A. They're not going to be home yet, so just hang here."

Jumping back in the car, she takes off down the street in search of parking and you open the gate and place each bag inside before you walk through and up to sit on the stoop to wait. A few minutes later she is back and climbs the steps past you, grabbing a bag as she does, then unlocks the door to grant you entrance.

"Wow. Swanky place." Stepping into the home you are immediately taken by the architectural style that is very similar to your apartment. The door leads into a large room with beautiful hardwood floors, warm light brown wall tones, and detailed trim and moldings. The home was either immaculately kept or recently refurbished in keeping with it's original architecture. The first room was not exactly what you'd term a foyer, it was more open than that, with sunlight pouring in from the large nearly floor to ceiling windows to the side of the door. Turning to your right, you take in the room's centerpiece, a medium grand piano, with the top fully raised, a beautiful dark nutmeg, satin finished Steinway.

"And a Steinway, no less." Dropping your bag, with a smile, you amble over to the beautiful instrument and lift the keyboard lid and poke out a quick blues riff, before closing it again. It had a warm, dark tone, more rich than your Yamaha, but you'd expect no less. It was also, thankfully, kept in tune. Not that you doubted a musician would maintain such a prized possession. 'I'll enjoy you later.' You think. Promising both it and yourself a more thorough dance.

Looking back at Cameron, she smiles at you, of course knowing how much you love walking in on such a beautiful sight. The one thing you really miss from your home is your piano. Lacking the bravery to be alone there long enough to practice it, you've been reduced to keeping up your chops on the cheap console in the hospital chapel.

"Our room is upstairs."

Taking both bags, she leads you up the stairwell opposite the main door. Good thing you aren't really a chauvinist, or you might have a problem with your girlfriend lugging your suitcase up a flight of stairs. As it is, you just enjoy the view of her ass again. You don't mind climbing stairs, other than it just is an annoying reminder of the missing piece of your thigh. It does remind you that you've been neglecting your workout routine of late, in favor of sex. Your right leg cramps for a moment forcing you to start climbing most the stairs with only your left leg.

Topping the stairs, Allison heads straight ahead into a room. You observe a hallway turns a corner to your right and runs behind you, parallel to the stairwell. Following, her, you enter a medium sized bedroom with a simple queen sized bed with no head board and a tall dresser that was worn and looked like it was likely something kept from one of their childhood bedrooms. It was much more homey and simple than the downstairs. She sets the bags down, and turning says "Let me give you the grand tour."

Walking past you into the hall she hangs a left and points straight ahead. "Bathroom. We'll share that one with the boys. So remember to knock first and to lock the door."

"Contrary to popular belief, I have been house trained." You say dryly.

Moving on down the hall she stops at the next door. "Boys' room. As you can probably tell by the bunk beds and the dirty clothes."

Stepping into the entry you assess the small messy room. "So if I need a playboy for the bathroom, my best bet is to search in there."

Raising her brows with a cock of the head, she continues toward the last door. Family pictures adorn the walls of the hallway and you pause to inspect them.

Many of the images are typical portraits of two boys, who you make the logical assumption are her nephews, at various ages. Peppered between are a few more casual images. One in particular catches your eye of a young couple with what you recognise to be the statue of The Redeemer in the background. The young man bears a familial resemblance to Allison and stands with his arm around a very lovely latina.

"Is your sister-in-law Brazilian?" You ask, wondering if there is a reason other than a simple vacation that the two would be visiting that country.

"Yeah. She and Gabe met in college. His roommate was a music major and Gabe spent a lot of time hanging out with him and went to most of his concerts. He introduced them and they ended up together. They moved to this area for grad school and decided to stay after they got married. Actually, their being here was a big factor in my moving here."

"She reminds me of the Brazilian singer Elis Regina." You mention as you continue to look at the image.

"Isn't she one of the vocalists on the bossa nova box set you gave me my first Christmas on the team? I remember thinking that one of them looked like Mariana. Oh and she really thought highly of you when she found out how I got those CDs." She says, wrapping herself around your back, curling her arms around your chest, planting soft kisses between your shoulder blades. Breaking the embrace a moment later, she continues to the last room on this floor.

"Office slash gaming slash workout room." Poking your head in you find a room slightly larger than the guest bedroom with a large computer desk topped with dual widescreen monitors next to a treadmill and some sort of fold away gym tucked into a corner of the room opposite a couch and entertainment cabinet with a wide screen TV.

She turns to point up a second staircase. "Then up the stairs is the master suite."

Returning downstairs you explore the main floor. The entry room opens into a formal sitting area with a leather sofa set and two more decorative side chairs finished in a red damask fabric. Under the furniture a large fluffy off-white area rug helps defines the space. You can't imagine the kids spend much time in this area, judging by their room. Past the sitting room you can see into a kitchen area. Just past the stairwell and living area is a powder room.

The openness of the first floor makes you lean towards thinking the place had been renovated and really well. It couldn't have been cheap, so her brother and sister-in-law must do pretty well in their professions or they have family money. A place like this, in this location, would set one back a pretty penny.

"So, where is everyone?" You ask, as you wander back toward the piano, wondering if you have time to play a few songs.

Sitting on the couch, and watching you as you make your way back to the instrument, Cameron answers. "The boys had some sort of activity this morning after which Gabe is going to drop them off at a friend's for the afternoon so we can go out and have some adult time. Mariana teaches a group class on Saturday mornings. Both should be back around in an half hour or so and then we'll go grab some lunch. You gonna to play something?"

"It'd be a shame not to. Steinways are a piece of art. They are like women, everyone is unique, and has her own voice. No two play exactly the same, and it is a pleasure to find which compositions really work her sweet spot. Some sound dark, others are bright, some rich, some thin, performers at any Steinway venue will tour their showroom to pick the one that best suits the work they intend to perform. They are still handmade by master craftsmen, so no two can ever be exactly alike."

You pull back the bench and sit down. Lifting the lid, you stare at the keys for a moment deciding what you should play. Your hands move to the keys and start improvising, not really playing any particular tune, just meandering around a few melodies you'd been working on, trying different harmonies with themes and variations.

You glance over to see Allison, with her legs curled up on the couch, her arm over the back, hand propping up her head as she listens to you with a look of appreciation and contentment. She knows you play, but this is the first time that you've ever played for her. Thinking back to your conversation in the upstairs hallway you transition a few key centers to modulate into an introduction to one of your favorite Jobim tunes, Corcovado. As you finish the turn-around back to the top of the form, you feel in the mood to sing the melody.

Um cantinho, um violão  
Esse amor, uma canção  
Pra fazer feliz a quem se ama

Muita calma pra pensar  
E ter tempo pra sonhar  
Da janela vê-se o Corcovado  
O Redentor, que lindo!

Quero a vida sempre assim  
Com você perto de mim  
Até o apagar da velha chama

E eu que era triste  
Descrente desse mundo  
Ao encontrar você eu conheci  
O que é felicidade, meu amor.

Halfway through the second section, you hear the door open and shut behind you, but you continue on. You see a figure walk past you to the sitting room in your periphery, but your focus remains on the piano in front of you. Finishing the melody, you improvise most of a chorus, singing the last refrain to close the song.

E eu que era triste  
Descrente desse mundo  
Ao encontrar você eu conheci  
O que é felicidade, meu amor.

Playing out the final cadence, you slowly pull your hands up from the keys. A round of applause comes from the living area as you look up to see Allison and her sister-in-law standing and clapping. "Wow. I don't get many standing O's at home." You realise your double entendre and with a smug look add "Well, I guess I have been getting plenty of standing O's the last couple of weeks, one of which was thanks to the outstanding red dress you picked out. You have great taste in women's apparel." You address Mariana, who laughs back and you and turns to Allison.

"He is a naughty one. I like him." She says with a thick accent, smiling and laughing with your girlfriend, then turns back to you, speaking in her native tongue.

"Você cantou com um Português muito bom. Tu tens fluência ou só aprendeste para cantar essa música?

Looking nonchalant, you shrug your shoulders. "É de conhecimento geral que eu já o usei algumas vezes. Estou sem praticar por um tempo, mas eu acho que falar várias línguas é como fazer sexo. Leva alguns minutos para achar teu tempo, mas depois de algumas tentativas, é como se tu nunca tivesses parado."

"Tu deves ter um dom para isso. Línguas, quero dizer, se bem que tenho certeza de que vou ter os detalhes sobre o sexo da Allison em breve." She winks back to Allison, who smirks back. "Eu falo Inglês diariamente e ainda me sinto estranha com isso. Onde tu aprendeste?"

"Eu era de uma família de militares. Vivi por alguns anos em uma base em São Paulo. Eu peguei algumas coisas, então assim eu pude pegar algumas gatas brasileiras." You waggle your eyebrows at her.

 _(translation)_

 _You sang the Portuguese lyrics well. Do you speak it or did you just learn how to sing the song?_

Looking nonchalant, you shrug your shoulders. _I've been known to speak it from time to time. I'm a little out of practice, but I find speaking most languages is like having sex. It takes a few minutes to get back your groove, but after a few goes, it's like you never stopped._

 _You must have a gift for it. Languages that is, though I'm sure I'll get the details on the sex from Allison soon enough._ She winks back to Allison, who smirks back. _I speak English daily, and I still feel awkward with it. Where did you learn?_

 _I was in a military family. I live a couple of years on the base in São Paulo. I picked it up so I could also pick up hot Brazilian babes._ You waggle your eyebrows at her.

 _(end translation)_

Switching back to English, she turns back to Allison "He's as bad as my brother with the sex talk. You'll have to bring Greg over for dinner next time he visits. They can swap dirty phrases."

Mariana Cameron is a short woman, at least by U.S. standards, standing no more than five foot three inches tall and graced with a very curvy frame. Her hair was jet black and cropped short, just grazing her jaw line. Rich brown eyes light up as she converses joyfully with you and Allison about her day and what she and Gabe have planned for lunch.

A few minutes later, Gabe is home and Allison makes a quick introduction as the two of your stay true to your sex, and size one another up. He is just shy of six feet, and his stature reminds you of Wilson, even some of his mannerisms are similar. His facial features leave no doubt that he is related to Allison. They share the same eyes, nose and lips, though the shape of their jaw line differs. His sandy blond hair is cropped short, much like yours. As he reaches a hand forward to greet you, the two of you clasp the other tightly in a strong handshake. Releasing his hold right before it becomes awkward, he turns to grab his sister in a bear hug, making her squeal and hit him playfully over the back.

Putting her down he continues with a broad smile. "It's good to see you again Al. You need to visit more often; the boys especially miss you."

"I know, but it's not always so easy to get away from work." She delivers the blanket lie you've been using for years with your family. It's a convenient one to be sure.

Helping her out, you offer to take some blame. "Being on my team is often more than a full time job. Of course she's left me again for the ER, so I can't be blamed for her lack of time going forward, unless the copious amounts of sex factor in." Teasing her, you reach your arm around her, and tug her awkwardly against your side.

"Yuck. My friends keep telling me she's hot, but c'mon dude, she's my little sister. As far as I am concerned she doesn't even know about S E X." He spells out sex to make his point and tosses in a little shiver for good measure as you debate between another even dirtier remark, or just rolling your eyes now and dropping it. A quick look at Allison's smug grin makes you pause.

"Well I'll do my best to keep the screaming to a minimum while we're here then." She says.

"Again, yuck! Al!" He teases back with a stinky face and takes a seat on one of the chairs, signaling to the rest of you you should do the same. "So, nice drive in?"

* * *

The consisus for lunch is Bedouin Tent Restaurant, which according to the Camerons serves the best falafel in Brooklyn. Opting to take the bus, to avoid having to park, you all walk to the end of the block to catch the next run.

It was a pleasant ride over, filled with more sibling teasing and another enjoyable conversation in Portuguese about the day you hopped a railway up Corcovado to visit the Redeemer. You had hooked up with some local kids and just ran off for the day while you and your parents were on a vacation in Rio. Your father had not been pleased, but you left the details of that out of the story.

The restaurant was cozy and the walls were lined with elaborate red tapestries. You sit down at a table in the middle of the room and the waiter brings over water for the table and asks to take your order. Going with Gabe's recommendation, you order the falafel sandwich without even looking at the menu. The rest of your party orders and Gabe jumps back into conversation with Allison.

"Are you going to make it home for Dad's birthday this year?" He inquires as he grabs his straw and bangs it on the table to free it from it's paper sheath. Depositing it in his water glass he takes a drink while she replies.

"Nope." She answers, peeling her own straw's paper more delicately. "If he couldn't see fit to make time to walk me down the aisle, I don't think I'll be able to make the time for another life lecture over cake and icecream." She spears her water with the straw hinting to her frustration at the topic.

Raising a single eyebrow, he sits back, shaking his head at her reply. "A little unfair of you, since you ended up leaving Robert at the altar. They did end up saving big on airfare."

"That's not the point and you know it. And it doesn't even account for time I did get married." She leans forward crossing her arms on the top of the table, passing her brother a cold look.

He crosses his arms against his body, tucking a hand under each armpit. "One of you is going to have to give in Al, and it'd be a helluva lot easier if it was you."

"Except, I'm not the one who is wrong, and you know it." She reaches forward and pokes the table with her pointer finger to emphasize her point. "Since when did you become the family diplomat Gabe?"

"Since you abandoned the post." He leans forward on the table matching Allison's stance, but softens his voice as he continues. "You know, despite everything, you're still his baby and his favorite. He's just can't get over the money. C'mon Al, take one for the team." Reaching across the table he gives her a playful fist-bump on the side of the arm.

She responds by rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Yeah, that approach worked out _so_ well last time." Collapsing back in her seat, her hand motions become animated as she continues. " _And_ I can't take how he talks to Mom now. He would have never condoned that when were were kids. It's on him, because he raised me to expect better."

Gabe shrugs. "Yeah, I can't say that I am thrilled about that either, but she's forever the optimist. Once the business gets back on track, she really believes things will go back to normal. And she still loves him."

"And if it never gets 'back on track?' He should learn to let people help him. You think he would be happy my finances are in order, given the melt down he had over my inheritance and Brian. My offer to help pay off his debt just destroyed all of the work I did to repair the relationship. He can't have it both ways. He can't demand to exercise control over our money, then refuse to use our money when we offer it to him. He's just being a fucking martyr. I have a hard time believing he's the same guy that raised us."

You observe the exchange with extreme interest, occasionally glancing at Mariana who is listening politely to a conversation that to her is no surprise. She seems to know better than to chime in on the topic, so you take the cue from her and opt to observe and formulate a few hypotheses.

It's no secret Allison can get mad or that she can hold a grudge. But you had always assumed that she came from some sort of perfect parental situation. She's broken, not completely fucked up. It seems that, at least since her first marriage, this relationship was strained at best. It peaks your curiosity, but your gut tells you you'll get a better version of the story if you ask her later. She's revealed a lot to you simply by being willing to have this conversation around you at all.

Talk is abandoned as the food arrives. Allison jabs her fork into her greek salad as if she has a vendetta against it and proceeds to close the door on the conversation as she takes a bite and chews with equal aggression. After a few moments of eating in awkward silence, Mariana takes charge of the conversation asking you about your plans for the rest of your vacation.

"Well, I think we are going to drive to Lexington and surprise my mother. I haven't seen her in almost two years and I should get some bonus shock value points bringing home a girl." You nudge Allison with your elbow and she grins at you, trying her best not to make it look forced, but you are sure she's still brooding over her own parental issues.

"Why? Does she think you are gay?" Gabe asks, playfully.

"Well, she wouldn't be the first to think Wilson and I are a closet case." You laugh back, turning your gaze to Allison, who looks back innocently as she eats her salad.

After swallowing a bite she ask you, "Wonder if she wants in on the pool? I'd be interested to know if she thinks you are a pitcher or a catcher."

This earns her another outstretched tongue from you. Nothing like joking about her boyfriend screwing his best friend to get her out of a funk.

"Okay, I need some more details. Who is this 'Wilson' and what does playing baseball have to do with your mother swimming?" Mariana asks, and you all snicker about the double meanings getting lost in translation.

You explain to her, "Todo mundo no trabalho pensa que eu talvez tenha um relacionamento gay com meu melhor amigo Wilson. A tua adorada cunhada começou uma aposta no trabalho sobre qual de nós dois é o ativo e qual é o passivo na hora da ação na porta dos fundos. Eles ainda estão tentando descobrir uma forma de resolver a aposta. Ela está zoando que talvez minha mãe queira entrar na aposta."

 _(translation)_

You explain to her, _Everyone at work thinks that I might be having a gay relationship with my best friend Wilson. Your lovely sister-in-law started a bet at work about which one of us is the active (the top) and which one is the passive (the bottom) when is time for action in the back door. They are still trying to figure out a way to settle the bet. She's joking that my mother may want in on the bet._

 _(end translation)_

Her eye widen and her mouth forms an 'O' as you explain. Then she breaks out laughing. "So, _do you_ have the hot gay sex with Wilson?"

Smiling back at her you mock sincerity, "Sorry, I can neither confirm or deny these rumors. But I will say that he did buy me a ring and asked me to be Mrs. Wilson number four. I couldn't accept, but it was one of the more touching moments of our bro-mance." Bringing your hand to your heart you let out a girly and romantic sigh.

You tell them them the full story of your con job on Nora and Wilson's masterful winning move. It doesn't exactly put you in the best light, but you at least had the good sense to leave out the part about your sole purpose in acting gay was because you wanted to touch her boobs.

Gabe surprises you with a belly laugh as he playfully smacks the table. "God, now that is a great prank! I had a friend in college I would joke around with like that. I miss it. These days, between the kids and work, I'm happy to make the time to sleep." He rolls his eyes and takes the last bite of his sandwich.

As he swallows, his face lights up. "Oh, did Allison ever tell you about the time she got arrested? Now there was a prank of epic proportions!"

Arrested? Oh this should be good. How the hell did you miss that? Oh yeah, you didn't do a background check on her because she was hot. See what you missed thinking with your dick.

Looking at Allison like the cat who ate the canary, you get ready for this new piece of history. "Oh, I'm _so_ going to enjoy this visit!" You tease, as she pushes forward her plate and lays her forehead down to the table across her arms.

* * *

 _Notes:_

 _So, this is an example of how small the internet makes the world. I had this idea of basing these two characters on some good friends of mine, only I was considering a different nationality for the sister-in-law. My beta is from Brazil, and my favorite composer is from Brazil, Antonio Carlos (Tom) Jobim. So we starting thinking it would be super cool to use her awesome bi-lingual skills to work in her native language which is a way better idea than my using a translator app. And then I could give House an excuse to be singing some really romantic things to Cameron in one of his many languages so she doesn't really know how sentimental he's being, and it gives him a chance to show off by speaking in a really hot sounding language._

 _Isn't it super fucking cool that someone who just randomly read my story, who volunteered to be my beta, happens to speak one of my favorite sounding languages, that is also a language that House knows? Yeah it is. And we've just had a blast chatting and goofing off._

So thanks again astavares! We're not done having fun yet!

 _Some fun facts referred to in the story:_

 _Corcovado is a mountain in Rio de Janeiro - State of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and atop the mountain is the statue of the Redeemer, which is one of the new Seven Wonders of the World. Google it!_

 _Also, here is a translation of Corcovado. If you don't listen to Jobim, then you should. :)_

 _One corner, one guitar  
This love, then a song  
To make the one you love happy_

 _A lot of peace to think  
and time to dream  
From the window see the Corcovado,  
the Redeemer, how wonderful!_

 _I want life always this way,  
with you by my side until the last flame goes out_

 _And I, who I was sad,  
didn't believe in this world anymore,  
when I found you I finally knew what is happiness, my love._


	15. A Prank, A Kiss, and A Concert

Chapter 15: A Prank, A Kiss, and A Concert

"Thanks Gabe." She groans as she lifts her head from the table and runs her hand through her hair to tuck it back from her face.

You mock her with your best serious boss face. "Good thing for Foreman I didn't know I already had a fellow with a criminal past on my team. You should make him buy you something nice as a thank you for pushing him ahead of the pack. You should have told me. As your employer, I had the right to know about your torrid past."

This earns a wide eyed look from her. "And give you yet another piece of ammunition in your quest to torment me as often and as thoroughly as possible?" Shaking her head "Not likely. Besides, like Foreman, I was a minor so it wouldn't have shown in my records. Not that that matters in the end, really, because the charges were eventually dropped."

"Well chalk that up to your genetic advantage of being born white, female and smoking hot and your social advantage of being a perfect little slice of the proverbial American Pie. You could be innocent or guilty as sin, but the nice policeman wouldn't want one bad decision to ruin your perfect little life." Emphasizing your last three words with a few in tempo pokes to her arm, elicits a deep sigh from your girlfriend.

Turning to her brother she admonishes him. "Dammit, Gabe. You see what you've done. It's not even that great of a story. Thanks."

Grinning broadly, as if she really meant the thanks, he answers "You're welcome, sis. Now are you going to tell him the damn story or am I?"

"No way I'm letting you make this worse. I know House is going to tease me mercilessly for being too honest as it is."

"Who, me? I'd never do such a thing _Cameron_." Dammit, she's doing it again. You emphasis her last last name and she sighs back at you, understanding her slip.

"Okay, I was just starting my senior year of highschool and I still had a couple of universities left to visit before finishing up all of my applications. I was very interested in the University of Michigan so I had set aside a few extra days to visit, so I could really get a feel for the whole atmosphere as well as the pre-med program.

"I spent Wednesday through Friday shadowing a junior and I was provided room and board in the same dorm with another pre-med student who was lucky enough to not have a full time roommate. So they invited me out on Friday night with several of their friends for a taste of the other side of college life.

"One of them had a work-study in the Admissions Office, so we were able to sneak in after hours and make me a fake Student ID that would get me into the bars and also some of the student only lounges.

"So we go out on the town and several hours into the evening, a bunch of drunk guys stagger through the door, one of which looks to be completely passed out. His arms are being draped around two bigger guys, his head is rolling around and he is wearing sunglasses.

"They drag him over to a semi circle booth and slide in around pushing him to the center. Propping him up, they order another round and, every ten minutes or so, just burst out laughing.

"I asked the girls I was with if they had any idea what was up, because they also seemed to be moderately amused and whispering amongst themselves.

"They asked me 'So you know that movie, Weekend at Bernie's' to which I replied 'of course,' 'Well, that is basicly what is playing out over there in that booth. Those are last year med students and per a tradition that goes back to sometime in the 80s, they're taking a fresh cadaver out on the town.'

"It has nothing to do with the movie really, it pre dates it, but after that movie came out, it evolved."

Remembering back to your time at Michigan, before you found out you would have to repeat your finally year from John Hopkins, and your subsequent withdraw from the social scene, you had organised a similar prank. "Yeah, that's been going on since I went to school there. We didn't take them out for drinks though. We just dressed them up and posed them in various classrooms within the department. Mostly to mess with the first year students. It's pretty ballsy to take them out on the town."

Smiling, you remember the surprise scream of one particular girl with an amused look.

"You call it ballsy, I call it extremely disrespectful. That person was someone's loved one. Their remains are not toys for our amusement. They donated their bodies for science, not as a party favor." She says seriously.

Rolling your eyes at her, you realise she is right about your moral disagreement on this subject. Going out out for a posthumous drink isn't even close to the awful things that could be done to a donated body. It is definitely still on the side of fun in your book, because you'd be ok with it yourself, so long as they make sure you look cool and maybe keep a babe on either arm.

"So," You ask, baiting her a bit "if you are so high and mighty about it, how did you end up in jail? Did you think it was fun at the time and something happened to make you realize it was a bad bad thing, or did you call the cops and somehow get in the crossfire?"

"No." She replies. "Most of us were in agreement that it was a stupid thing to do. One girl had some sort of axe to grind with one of the guys with the body, so she really was the instigator of the idea. She convinced our group, also being somewhat inebriated, that it would be funny if the guys thought they had lost the body.

"We planned out a way to steal it and return it to the college morgue. That way, they wouldn't get in trouble or have some sort of career ending run in with the police for doing something that had been going on for years, but they'd have to sweat it out over the weekend.

"So, then I made a suggestion to help extend the prank a few more days. My high school biology teacher was best friends with one of the teachers at Michigan. He was my main contact there and we had really hit it off. So I called him and loped him in on the plan and he agreed to pretend the body never made it back to the morgue for a few days. He was pretty excited because the department was getting heat over the ritual because of some other colleges had body parts stolen and ended up in the news. They were looking for a quiet way to scare the students into abandoning the tradition without causing a media scene.

"It wasn't very hard to execute the first part of the plan. Most of our group were pretty girls. We invited the older med students over to the sorority house of one of the girls. We recruited a couple of guys to help move 'Bernie.' The girls distracted the med-students for long enough for me and our guys to move 'Bernie' to my car.

"The guys that were helping cart the body had come in their own car, and the girls were on distraction duty, so I was driving alone back to campus to meet Dr. Williamson and return 'Bernie' to the morgue.

"I got stopped by a campus cop on my way back. I should have just told him the truth from the beginning, but I was already really freaked out. Even though I wasn't drunk, I had been drinking earlier and I was, obviously, under aged to drink at all. So I lied, and tried to play it off that my friend had been at a party and had passed out drunk and I was just taking him back to his dorm.

"It would have worked better if he had been breathing, I guess. The policeman got very concerned for my friend and then figured out he was dead. Once he got a closer look, it was obvious the guy was embalmed and next then I know I'm in handcuffs and being loaded into the back of the police car. I figured I'd already screwed up the story once, so I opted to stay quiet until I could use my phone call and bring in Dr. Williamson.

"So, this was before everyone had a cell phone. So I had to call his wife, and she had to run out to the campus and find him, because he was going to meet us by the back entrance to the building. In the meantime, I had to wait in an interrogation room with some cop who was extremely suspicious of my desire to remain silent until Dr. Williamson made it in.

"They called my parents in the meantime. So they were on the way in now, at something like midnight on a Friday night. It was a four hour drive. I was mortified that they had to be called, knowing that things would likely be cleared up by morning.

"Long story short, everything was ironed out with the police two hours later and the body was returned, and the rest of the prank was successful. I, however, was up to my neck in shit from my parents when they got in. Afterward, the story was leaked out to the campus newspaper along with my name. So between my parents telling me there was no way in hell I was going to that kind of school, and the fact that half the med students now hated my guts for destroying their fun, I had to strike Michigan from my list. Which killed me at the time, because it was one of my top three.

"The students who did steal the body were put on academic probation for a while as well. It was part of the deal that was required for the police to ignore the situation and drop the charges against me. They were let back in after a quick appeal because there was never any intention of kicking them out. But, they were made enough of an example that body borrowing was no longer something students were willing to do."

Taking the whole story in, you decide "You're right. I would have made fun of you if I knew this before. I only respect being arrested for good reasons, like theft, perjury, destruction of property, drug possession—you know, normal healthy things. But I do think your plan was great, it just hit a snag in the execution. Making a bunch of guys think they'd lost a body is kind of cool."

Smiling, she raises her brows then inhales deeply "Yeah, I missed all of the good parts. But I kept in touch with one of the girls for long enough to hear that their reaction the next morning was entirely epic."

You imagine it was. You would have been freaked. "I'm glad it didn't make you shy away from taking part in a good prank. I still get the giggles when I think of the one we pulled on Kutner." It always brings a smile to your face to remember the screams when you revived the supposedly dead prostitute. Now there was a fun girl.

"Now see, Al, that wasn't so bad. He seems impressed." Gabe grins, still enjoying having embarrassed his sister in front of her man. Never having had a sibling, you imagine that it must be a lot like having a Wilson.

"He does," she concedes "but he also is filing it away as potential ammo for later. You don't know him like I do. He has the maturity level of a ten year old. Believe me, it is a double edged sword."

"Hey now, you were enjoying shining my sword this morning." She turns and sticks her tongue out at you and you move in quickly to kiss her playfully. Despite your audience, it heats up from playful to needy quickly before you hear Gabe clear his throat and Mariana give a little cat call.

"Come on man, I don't need to see this! Little sister! Remember?" Gabe feins disgust.

* * *

On the bus ride back was more crowded and you ended up seated away from the other Camerons. Luckily there were two seats together for you in the way back of the bus. Sitting down away from prying eyes you let your hand stroke the insides of her thighs lightly as she leans her head against your arm.

She confesses to you "I didn't want to say this in front of Mariana and Gabe, but every time you start speaking Portuguese I just want to jump you. It's so fucking hot."

Damn. Good to know. Not that she has ever needed convincing to have sex with you, but it never hurts to have extra tricks in your book for down the road.

You lean into her ear and whisper "E você, também fala?" _Do you not speak it yourself?_ Giving her lobe a quick lick for good measure.

You wait for a moment and get no answer, but her hand migrates to your thigh and gives it a squeeze just inches below your crotch. You take that as a no. Oh, this is going to be fun. You can give her the weather report and she'll be putty in your hands. But this is no place to really start something, so you leave it at a simmer knowing that tonight you'll have your wicked way with her.

* * *

You spend another hour or so hanging out with the Camerons at their home before the boys return home. Gabe calls to them as they enter the front door. "In here boys. There is someone we want you to meet." Gabe stands and you follow suit.

Entering the room a moment later are two young men clad in jeans and t-shirts. They look nearly the same age, which surprises you, as you know they are two years apart and, at twelve and fourteen, it should be far more apparent which boy is which. Both could pass for fourteen.

They run past you and their father and take turns tackling Allison, who stood up a moment earlier to brace for the onslaught. She returns their hugs with equal excitement. "Aunt Allison! We missed you. I got a new bike, you should come outside and check it out later." The taller boy says to her.

"I'm looking forward to it!" She says and they continue to exchange pleasantries.

They are good looking boys, the ethnicities of each of their parents blending well. Their skin is tan, but lighter than their mother's, both have her darker hair. The taller of the two, just past his mother's height, has his mother's eyes, but the rest of his face is remarkably Cameron. The other, just shy of his mother's height, had his father's and aunt's eyes, their nose, but his lips and facial shape were all his mother.

Both looked like they were in good shape neither over or underweight, though the taller boy was just a little heavier in frame than the other. Your bet was he was the oldest, Jonathan.

"So boys, this is Aunt Allison's new boyfriend, Greg House. He's also a doctor and he works at the same hospital. Greg these are our sons, Jon and Tommy." Gabe makes the introduction. Indicating each boy as he named them, confirming your theory.

They eye you suspiciously, but each reaches out and offers you a hand shake. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Greg." The elder boy says as he gives you a firm shake.

"You're a lot older than Uncle Robert." The younger boy blurts out as he takes his turn to grab your hand and shake it firmly. "Do you play video games? Uncle Robert and I used to play when he'd come visit."

You are amused by the collective looks of horror on the faces of every other Cameron in the room. Obviously they had expected the kid to know better, or maybe they had told him not to mention Chase to you, but Tommy doesn't give a shit. Either way, you found yourself equally amused and pissed off by the reminder that, as far as he is concerned, you are just the next replacement uncle.

"Well kid. It's your lucky day. I like to consider myself a god when it comes to most any video game and I've wiped the floor with dear old Uncle Robert's ass many times on Grand Theft Auto. It's our favorite way to settle disagreements at work."

"Cool." He motions for you to lean over closer to him. He seems to have a secret to tell you. So you lean over your cane and get your head close enough he can whisper in your ear. "Mom doesn't let us play Grand Theft Auto. She doesn't want us picking up prostitutes."

Smiling you whisper back. "Sucks for you. That's my favorite part of the game."

Straightening back up, you wink at the boy, who is smiling at you broadly as if you've passed some sort of test he'd had for you. "Wanna go play something now?" He asks.

"Dunno. Auntie Allison, is it ok if I go play with the other kids?" You ask with your little boy face.

"I guess, if the other parents don't mind." She laughs, punting the question of the boys disappearing off to the game room to their mom and dad. She's probably looking forward to having some private time with her sibling and his wife.

"Sure guys, but no more than an hour. You both still have homework, and Tomas you still haven't practiced piano this weekend."

Tomas sighs. "I told you, I want you to call me Tommy now." Switching to the sing-songy voice all kids his age seem to have mastered he asks "Do I really have to practice the piano?"

"That's just wrong kid." You chime in. "Chicks dig a guy who can play piano but, if piano's not your thing, you should consider electric guitar. That'll really get you in good with the babes." You tease him, well aware your comments are probably borderline offensive in some homes. Gabe, seems amused with your method of encouragement in the arts. Mariana, just rolls her eyes.

"Yes honey, women love a man who can play music." She confirms.

"What's Jon's problem then?" He teases his brother.

"Shut up Tommy!" Jon is not amused. "Speaking of practicing. I don't really want to play video games right now. I'm going to practice if that is okay with you." He addresses his mother, who nods a yes and he walks behind the piano and pulls out his cello in case, and lugs it upstairs to his room.

"Well, old man, that leaves you and me." Tommy says as he turns and runs up the stairs leaving you to hobble behind.

"Tomas, don't disrespect your elders!" Mariana yells after him, knowing her comment is falling on deaf ears.

Before you leave you turn to the others, smiling and thumbing behind you. "I'll try not to destroy his fragile ego when I wipe the floor with him." Allison steps up to you and wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you down for a kiss.

"I knew the two of you would hit it off. Remember he's only twelve so go easy on the girl talk. And if you don't want to be 'Mr. Greg' or 'old man', just tell the kids what to call you. Mariana wants to make sure they are respectful in how they address adults, but it's really whatever you want."

"Yes dear." You say with a hint of sarcasm as you leave her arms and head for the stairs.

As you pass the boys' room, you hear Jon beginning his warmups. He sounds very good, even while only playing simple scales and arpeggios. His sense of pitch is excellent and his tone is better than you expected given his age. Good genes, paired with the right training, seem to be paying off.

Continuing down the hall, you join Tommy in the game room, flopping on the couch beside him, leaning your cane on the armrest, and take the second controller from the table in front of you.

"What's wrong with your leg, Mr. Greg?"

"Call me House." He looks at you with a question. "That is what most people call me."

"Okay, House, what's wrong with your leg?" He asks again. Damn kids just say whatever is on their minds. It's something you've always liked about them, even when it is inconvenient, it's refreshing they haven't perfected the social contract.

"I had what we doctors like to call an infarction, which is a fancy way of saying the blood flow to my leg got blocked for too long. By the time the other doctors figured out what was wrong, part of the muscle in my leg died. It had to be removed, so I got to trade it in for this super cool cane and sexy limp."

He nods, content to have his curiosity satisfied.

"Super Street Fighter IV, okay? Or you can go pick something else from the cabinet." He offers, but you don't really care what game it is so long as it is an action game.

"It's fine. Give me a rundown of the controls." You ask and he explains, then dives right into two player mode.

He very much enjoys kicking your ass and talking smack for the first few rounds as you figure out a few moves and try a couple of different characters. Thirty minutes in, the tide is turning in your favor as your hours of devotion to the PS3 start kicking in.

"I'm biting your head off again, kid. Whatcha gonna do 'bout that?" You taunt him as you lay him out a third time in a row.

"Well I guess you don't completely suck. I was beginning to think you were all talk old man." He laughs, as his character groans in defeat. Putting down the controller he glances behind the couch toward the door then looks back at you. "Can I ask you something? It's kind of… well… there's this girl."

Oh boy. There always is. Careful how you answer this. You've also got a girl, and you very much like sleeping with said girl.

"Let me guess. You like her." He nods. "Is she in your class at school?"

"Sort of. She's actually in Jon's class, but I was so bored in my math class that I was sleeping through it, so my teacher recommended me for this advanced class that has kids from a few different grades. She's in it with me."

"Ah. Older woman." Allison was right. This kid's already in trouble. But you remember how it was. One day girls are gross and full of cooties, the next they are mysterious objects of desire.

"So does she like you back?"

"Yeah. We kissed a couple of times after school." His face reddens a little as he considers his next words. "Do you like french kissing Aunt Allison?"

Oh man. You are wondering if this is the time to run, but you feel bad for the kid. You'd needed advice at his age on this very thing, and there was no way you were going to ask your dad.

"Why do you ask? Does this girl want to french kiss you?" You avoid really answering that question, in favor of getting down to the heart of the matter.

"Yeah. She does. But neither of us has done it before and I dunno, it seems kind of weird to stick my tongue in someone's mouth."

You let out a quick burst of laughter, then answer him honestly "It is the furthest thing from weird. Trust me. When you figure it out, you're going to like it. It takes a few tries to get it right and you should ask her to tell you what she does and doesn't like _and_ you should tell her the same. It's important to practice and get feedback because you do NOT want to grow up and be a bad kisser. Next time you are watching TV, and someone kisses, watch for the tongue and take notes."

"So how does it work. I mean, how do I let her know I want to stick my tongue in there?"

In for a penny, in for a pound, you guess. You'd hate to let Allison's nephew struggle with the ladies. "Well, usually, you should start out slow. You kiss normally, then open your mouth just a little and run the very tip of your tongue across her lips, just barely. That is important, especially at first. Don't go trying to ram your whole tongue in her mouth right away. That's a ticket to disaster on your first few tries."

His eyes are distant as he listens intently to your instruction. "Got it. No ramming."

'Oh, kid if you only knew.' you think, then continue on. "If she wants to deepen the kiss, she'll open her mouth a little and you can move a little further in and let your tongue touch hers. Then, hopefully some instinct will take over. But the big thing is to remember that, at first, less is more. As you figure it out, you can be more aggressive, but for now just go slow and wait for her to respond to you at each step."

You can see him processing the information and taking everything in. Hopefully he takes more than the kissing slowly. Everyone always worries about the older boys taking advantage of the younger girls, but you know from experience that teenage girls can be just amorous with younger boys and boys are the far weaker sex when it comes to saying no to sex.

"Thanks, House. You're okay for an old dude." He picks up the controller again and starts to set up another game. You've kind of lost you interest at this point and tell him to switch to single player as you get up and make your way out of the room.

Jon is still practicing. You hang in the hallway again listening and your mind drifts back to the last time you listened to solo cello. Emotions that you thought you had resolved are threatening to surface as you hear someone making their way up the steps. You hear the door to your room open, and though you can't see around the corner to confirm it, you assume Allison has just entered the room.

You continue on down the hall, turn the corner and follow her into the room, shutting the door behind you, and leaning back heavily on it. She turns to look at you, and her face immediately softens to a look of concern.

"Greg? Are you okay?" She says as she approaches and, as soon as she is in reach, you grab her arm and pull her to you. Your other hand drops your cane to find her cheek and you bend down to take a kiss. As you release her arm, both her hands find your face and she cradles it, lovingly stroking your beard.

Pulling away her eyes meet yours, and you are sure she sees the redness there. "What happened, baby?"

"There are some things that happened at Mayfield that I haven't told you about. It's a long story, one I want to tell you sometime soon, when it's just us. But, anyway, the cello music suddenly reminded me off it, that's all. Then I saw you and needed to kiss you, so I did."

Her eyes are now so filled with concern, you think they might melt you. Leaning back down, you kiss her again, savoring her closeness. Then your mind drifts to the question Tommy had asked you moments before and you break the kiss with a smile, as you lean your forehead to hers.

"Oh, and if Gabe hasn't given Tommy 'the talk,' he needs to get on that like yesterday. You're right about that kid. He's already in trouble with the girls."

Pulling back and looking at you suspiciously she asks "Why do you say that?"

Realizing your proximity to the door might make it easy to eavesdrop on your conversation, you push her further back into the room to stand next to the bed and lower your voice.

"Well, firstly, he wanted to know if I enjoyed 'french kissing Aunt Allison'."

"Uh Oh." She laughs.

"Yeah."

"So what did you tell him? Do you like french kissing his aunt?" She asks playfully, rubbing her body against yours.

"Well, you know me, I need to do it more before I make up my mind." You bend down again, but she gently pushes you back and places a finger to your lip, which you take advantage of and take into your mouth.

"Seriously, did you talk to him about it? Is there a girl he wants to kiss, I mean there must be, otherwise why ask?"

"Yep, and older girl no less. Jon's age apparently. She wants him to slip her the ol' tongue action and he thought it might be 'weird.'" You both cuckle.

"And you told him?"

"That is is definitely _not_ weird. Then I told him all of my dirty secrets. Well, at least the one about how not to choke the girl with your tongue your first time trying it."

"He must really like you then. To feel comfortable asking something like that."

"Meh," you shrug "I'm a convenient adult that isn't his parent or teacher. But seriously, if he's french kissing fourteen year old girls at twelve, his going to need the condom talk sooner than later. He's the kind of kid that is going to hit the ground running come highschool."

"I think Gabe has an idea, but I'll talk to him. Thanks." She is looking at you in a curious way. Your best guess is she's somewhat surprised that you are acting a little like an adult rather than buying the kid a stack of porn and a box of condoms.

Sitting down on the bed, you pull her down to straddle you. "Now, I need to kiss you more to figure out if I like it or not."

"Oh yeah?" She sits down on your lap and meets your lips and your tongues waste no time beginning a sensual duel. You begin to rock her against you, and she reluctantly pulls away from your hungry lips. "Not while the kids are awake and in the next rooms. Besides, I came up here for a reason. Mariana will send out the search party soon."

You nod and release her. If you ever have kids they are going to have to learn to wear headphones or something and get used to the fact that their father likes to have sex with their mother.

Did you really just think that?

Wow.

Allison opens her luggage and mills through finding a book. She turns to leave the room, but before she can get to the door, you step behind her and put your arms around her. Bending down you wisper in her ear "Mais tarde, quando todo mundo estiver dormindo, eu vou fazer amor com você bem devagar. Eu vou levar meu tempo para te fazer gozar pra mim de novo e de novo."

 _Later, when everyone's asleep, I'll make love to you slowly. I'm going to take my time to make you come for me again and again._

She shudders against you. "You're not playing fair. I have to go now."

You release her and she leaves the room. You close the door behind her and sit on the bed for a moment waiting for your semi-erection to recede. After a few moments you join the adults downstairs.

* * *

You've decided that Allison could certainly have fared far worse for relatives. Gabe has a good sense of humor, and Mariana seem to think you are the long lost white double of her brother. Apparently, he also enjoys an excess of dirty talk and double entendres. This amuses her greatly. And she is overjoyed to have someone to run the occasional translation. Apparently Gabe's Portuguese is lacking and, as is typical, his best phrases involve dirty talk and cursing. Another thing she blames on her brother.

You soon realise you need to begin to get ready for the blues show. The venue is at an old theater that was recently converted to be a music venue and restaurant. You have reservations for dinner a couple hours before the show starts. It's a casual venue, so you opt to just toss a jacket over your tee shirt and jeans. Cameron starts to change but you remind her she looks damn fine in her skinny jeans and tight red tee, so she opts to just throw on her light leather jacket to help ward off the chill of the evening air.

Opting for public transit again, so that you can both drink and you don't have to deal with parking, you head to the bus stop. Thirty minutes later you find yourself seated at a table mere feet from the stage, and in a stroke of excellent luck, at an angle to the keyboard that you can observe the hands of the mighty Dr. John in action. You are feeling pretty great about your life in this moment.

For the first time in years, on a real date, and not just with a fling or an escort, you find that dinner conversation comes easy to you. You joke about your day, about funny memories you both have from work, you even tell her some of your favorite ways you've pranked Wilson. In fact, you are not sure you've ever carried this much of the conversation outside of work with her ever.

The ways she listens to you and laughs with you is something you've only had with Wilson since Stacy. There are hints of it with Cuddy and the ever so brief time with Lydia, but the potential for this sort of one on one friendship hasn't been something you've had other than with Wilson in a long time. It suddenly doesn't frighten you so much. In fact, it's rather nice.

After dinner, Allison pulls her chair to sit beside you, facing the stage, to better enjoy the concert. You put your arm around her and enjoy her as she leans against you.

As the set ends, she grabs the record and uses her charm to catch your idol as he exits the stage to grab a drink from the bar. God, you love small clubs, for this very reason—the musicians mix among the people. He doesn't miss a beat with your charming and sexy girlfriend, and minutes later she returns with your record signed.

You take it from her and read the inscription:

"Greg, I hope that tonight's music gives you memories as good as the ones you have because of this record. — Dr. John"

"Damn. Being a hot chick certainly has it's advantages." You lean over and kiss her.

"Yes, but he seemed pretty nice. I bet you could have gotten him to sign it." She says. God, she's so adorable when she doesn't realise what a fucking knockout she is. Yeah he'd sign it, but it he wouldn't have been nearly so happy about it, and doubt you'd have thought of that inscription either.

"Maybe, but I am sure he enjoyed you asking him more. Your breasts are much nicer than mine, and your ass is a thing of beauty."

You inspect the cover again, feeling a bit like a kid at Christmas.

By the end of the night you are a little buzzed on alcohol and very high on life. It's happening to you more and more, and you could get used to it.


	16. Backdoor Confessions

Chapter 16: Backdoor Confessions

You manage to make it up to your room without waking the household. Neither of you is drunk per say, but you're not really sober either. If you were one of the little bears, you'd say you are both just right. As soon as you are through the bedroom door you turn on the light and turn the lock as an extra measure to avoid an accidental walk in by a half asleep kid. No need to have them find out the other things you like doing to their aunt with your tongue.

As you turn around, you watch as Allison props your record up on the dresser. God, her ass, in those jeans, makes you entirely too horny. Your eyes roam over the shape of her legs as they disappear into the tops of her boots. Fucking hell.

"Gata, esse jeans meu deixou com vontade de morder tua bunda!" _Baby, those jeans make me want to bite your ass!_

Turning to face you, she opens her jacket and lets it drop to the floor. Leaning back against the door, you watch her. She walks toward you with a swing in her hips and your cock pumps in time. When she reaches you, she leans against you, one hand traveling up to your face to beg a kiss the other travelling south to encourage the growing bulge in your pants.

You dip your head to kiss her and her tongue requests a dance. You invite her in, and give it a gentle suck, getting a low hum in return. You hang your cane on the door handle behind you without breaking contact with her, as your left hand finds it's way under her shirt. It snakes around her waist to the small of her back, then works its way inside her pants until it travels deep enough to grab a handful of her right ass cheek. Her flesh is warm, and smooth and round in all of the right places. The combined sensations have you straining against your jeans painfully.

You reach your other hand around her waist and start pushing her back toward the bed, careful not to interrupt her kisses or fondling. Reaching your destination you turn and sit, leaving her standing before you. You pull each of her legs up one at a time, to remove her boots and socks. Tossing them aside, you turn focus to her fly, opening it slowly, kissing the delicate flesh there as you uncover it. Turning her around, you peel her pants and panties away revealing the object of your lust, and you give into your desires and take a playful bite from each cheek.

She moans and takes off her top then, reaching up, you help her along by unclasping her bra, and push it from her shoulders to join the rest of her clothes in the floor. Applying a gentle pressure to her back you lean her forward and dip your head down to lick her freshly exposed entrance. It's a complete aphrodisiac to always find her so wet for you, to smell her wetness, to taste it. You have to take a moment and open your jeans, because you can't stand the strain any longer, but you never take your mouth from her. She is delicious, and her lips throb under yours encouraging you as you nibble and suck them. Sticking out your tongue completely you thrust it in and out of her entrance, fucking her with it as you reach one hand to her clit.

For a moment you pull your head away and replace your tongue with two fingers. Once you coat them in her juices, you return your tongue to her and let your moistened fingers circle slowly around her anus. She inhales sharply for a second, then relaxes again, letting loose a low hum.

Her reaction gives you more confidence, breaking from your oral explorations again, you tease her more.

"Você não tem idéia de o quanto eu quero te pegar por trás e entrar aqui." Continuing to make slow circles, you work your way towards the center, then stop for a moment to apply a gentle pressure. "Allison, eu quero muito a tua bunda."

 _You have no idea how much I want to take you from behind and get inside here."_ Continuing to make slow circles, you work your way towards the center, then stop for a moment to apply a gentle pressure. _Allison, I want your ass so much._

"Jesus, Greg. That's fucking hot."

Her words seem like an invitation to you, so you slowly sink your wet middle digit inside her tight ass. She relaxes for you, letting you know your instincts are correct. It's incredibly intimate and insanely hot that she is letting you do this to her.

"Fuck, Allison. You're amazing."

Your other hand takes turns working her clit, and sliding up to enter her pussy, then back again. She's grabbing the back of her legs and groaning under your touch. The added intensity of double penetration is driving her mad, and she struggles to bite back her moans, knowing that if she fails, she'll wake the household.

She pulls away from you reluctantly, turns, then kisses you gently. Softly she tells you, "It's too much, Greg. I love it, but I need you to do this to me in a place I can fucking make noise."

You nod and start taking off your shirt, she drops to her knees and seconds later has your pants off and your cock in her mouth. Now you're the one choking back a moan. Leaning back on your left hand, you right tangles itself in her hair, matching the thrusts of her mouth.

Keeping your voice low, but no less intense than if you were screaming, you continue your verbal temptations "Meu Deus, Allison, tua boca é maravilhosa! Isso, me chupa!" _My God, Allison, your mouth is amazing! That's it, suck me!_

Rewarding your linguistic flirtations, she takes you in deep and holds it there giving you a low and appreciative hum. Fuck, she's good at this. You bite your lip, because it's all you can do to keep from screaming her name.

You pull her up from your cock by the hair, and take her mouth again. She takes a turn at sucking your tongue, and both of you get off on the way your flavors combine in the kiss. Yes, you like french kissing Aunt Allison. You fucking love every way of kissing her.

She climbs on top of you as your mouths dual, grabbing your cock as she does and impaling herself with it. Your groans are muffled in the other's mouth.

Emboldened by the cloak of secrecy the second language gives you, you pull away from her mouth and pull her closer to you, then whisper in her ear. "Eu não me sinto desse jeito com alguém há muito tempo. Eu me sinto tão bem e poderoso e assustado, tudo ao mesmo tempo. Eu quero me dar para alguém pela primeira vez, desde que ela partiu meu coração. Por favor, seja paciente comigo. Eu não sei se consigo sobreviver ser machucado de novo."

 _I haven't felt this way with someone in a very long time. It makes me feel amazing and powerful and terrified all at the same time. I want to give myself to someone for the first time since she broke my heart. Please be patient with me. I don't know if I can survive being broken again._

She sucks on the nape of your neck then bites you gently as you run a hand through the back of her hair while the other rests on the small of her back. Your secret confession is turning your emotions on overdrive, which is, in turn, being accentuated by the slow and steady rocking of Allison's hips.

She takes her turn to whisper in your ear. "I love you. More than I've loved anyone else. You make me feel like I am on fire when you are inside me."

"Allison, god, you feel so good!" You still struggle to just come out and tell her you love her. It's not like those words have never passed your lips. In fact, they have many times. But they are the marker of the point of no return.

"Eu quero te dizer como eu me sinto toda vez que eu estou dentro de você. Isso me faz sentir que eu estou em casa. Eu quero ser corajoso como você e apenas dizer as palavras, mas eu ainda tenho medo de que tudo isso vai desmoronar ao meu redor, de que de alguma forma eu não tenho permissão de ser feliz."

 _I want to tell you how I feel every time I am inside you. It makes me feel like I'm at home. I want to be brave like you and just say the words, but I am still afraid this is all going to crash down around me, that somehow I am not allowed to be happy._

Pulling back from you, she looks you in the eye and takes your face in her hands and leans forward to kiss you softly. "I'm going to turn around and reverse our position." She tells you, then raises up slipping off the bed for a moment to turn around, putting her legs between yours she sits back on your lap ass first as you grab your cock and guide it inside her. She's even tighter this way, with her legs together and it's all you can do to not lose it as you push in. She leans forward and places a hand on either of your knees for leverage and raises herself slowly to the very tip, before sliding back down fully. You place your hands on her waist to help support and guide her thrusts.

Watching yourself get buried over and over again from this angle is intensely errotic, seeing your dick coated with her juices, watching her reddened and swollen labia engulf you again and again. She's so wet it drips down your balls. She leans forward even more and the change in angle nearly causes you to cry out, but remembering you need to stay quiet, you bite your lip and just groan. Fuck. "Allison, I'm going to come soon. Are you close? I want you to come with me."

She doesn't answer right away and you know you need to get to her clit, but this position presents a challenge. "Crawl onto the bed. On your hands and knees." You order.

Lifting herself off you once more, she obeys, stopping for a moment offering you her hand to help you stand. She crawls to the middle of the bed on all fours, facing the head of the bed and you kneel behind her and take a moment to stroke her with your fingers. You slide them all the way forward and begin to work her clit back and forward picking up speed until you cause her to lean down and bite a pillow to keep from screaming.

Her motion angles her entrance higher and you trade your hand for your cock plunging into her. Setting a steady and quick rhythm you reach around her and resume your work on her clit, working her to a lather until you hear her muffled scream and feel the walls of her vagina start to milk your cock. With a grunt you spill yourself into her, the force of your last thrust pushing you both down to the bed.

You don't want to move, but you are sure you are crushing her, so reluctantly, you roll off of her back onto yours. She doesn't even move to cuddle against you right away, obviously still spent from her climax.

Staring at the ceiling, you wonder if you'll ever feel safe again. This morning was so easy, but then again, you were also hiding behind a song. She's told you twice now, openly and honestly. You've told her in code several times. What are you so afraid of? She wants this. She's waited for you for six years. Even when she wasn't waiting, she was.

You know how you feel. She knows how you feel. You just have to say it. For real. Not in Portuguese. Not in a song.

Coming down from her high, she turns on her side to look at you. Feeling her eyes on you, you turn your head to meet them. Damn it. She's burning you again with her open emotions. You can see she is sensing your struggle. Smiling at you, she props herself up on one elbow. "So, we didn't think ahead for clean up and I am noticing a lack of tissues on the night stand. So, ah, whose shirt do we sacrifice to the come gods tonight? Because I am not leaving a giant come stain on Mariana's sheets for her to deal with later."

"I'm voting for my underwear. It's seen it's fair share of our secretions, and is more easily replaced than my shirt." You reason, and roll over and lean over the edge of the bed and grab your shorts, and toss them to her.

There she did it again. She has made you comfortable. She has become more in tune with your emotional struggle and distracts you from your brooding.

After a moment of cleanup, she tosses your shorts in with the rest of your dirty clothes, turns out the light and returns to bed. You've crawled under the sheets, and she joins you, spooning you from behind. She wraps her arm around you and tucks her hand under the side of your chest, then kisses your back. "Good night Greg. Today was the best day I've had in probably a year. Thank you."

"Good night Allison. I… I really had a good time too." Pussy.

* * *

You wake up to a pounding noise. "Dammit Tommy! Stop being a dick and unlock the door." Jon shouts at his younger brother, not really caring if he wakes the whole neighborhood.

"Snooze you lose brother. You can go downstairs, I'm taking a shower and, in case you forgot, I don't think Aunt Allison or House really want to walk in on me in a all of my naked glory." Tommy shouts back as you hear the shower turn on.

"Guess it's time to wake up." You say as you roll over and pull Allison, who had drifted away from you in her sleep, against your still naked form. "I'd be more frisky, but your nephews are being a quite effective means of birth control this morning."

"Mmm. They've been know to have that effect. This is nothing. Years three through ten occasionally made me consider getting my tubes tied." She mumbles as she wiggles herself closer to your body, in turn making your dick a liar of you.

"Seems like Little-Greg is in disagreement with Big-Greg." She teases, feeling your swelling erection start to press against her ass.

"He can't help his biological imperative, especially when in close proximity to superior breeding stock."

It's strange falling into this comfortable banter with her, teasing about the original and technical purpose of the intimate acts you've been doing to one another the last two weeks.

"Well, he needs to hold that thought because any noise we make is going to be heard now. And I really have to pee." She starts to scoot away from you, but you don't let her escape.

"You see, that's Little-Greg's problem, he doesn't have thoughts, he has reactions." You murmur in her hair, enjoying her trying to squirm away, before letting her loose with a kiss to the top of the head.

An half hour later you've both managed to get in a shower, Allison, deciding to forego fighting for time in the boys' bath, borrows the shower in the master suite. Jon, unlike his brother, is very polite and, when he sees you wander out of your room for the first time this morning, offers the next turn in the shower to you, making sure to show you where all of the towels and spare toiletries are keep and the quirk with the temperature knobs that might cause an accidental scalding.

He completely reminds you of Allison. His features very much like hers, save the tan skin and brown eyes. He could easily be mistaken for being her son if she were just a little older. Even his dark hair reminds you of hers when she first started with you. But beyond the physical, similarities, he is very considerate, polite and seems to want to be taken seriously, like Cameron that very first year.

You take your time and enjoy a long hot shower, soothing your leg from the past day's activities. Coming out of the bathroom, you are hit with the amazing aroma of breakfast being prepared. Suddenly you are starving.

Glancing at a bedside clock as you enter the room, you see it's 9:30. A little earlier than you like to be awake on a Sunday, but at least you'll get an early start on your trip north. By the looks of the luggage, Allison has already been back from her shower and gotten dressed, and has her suitcase repacked and ready.

Ten minutes later, you are dressed in your jeans and your smiley face t shirt. You pop your daily anti-depression meds, a couple of ibuprofen, then pack away your things and leave your bag beside hers, before heading downstairs to join the Camerons for breakfast.

Entering the kitchen and dining area you find Jon and Gabe placing food on the table, Mariana at the oven pulling out a huge iron skillet full of what looks like a quiche. The table has stacks of pancakes, bacon, and skillet fried potatoes. Tommy is dicking around on an iPhone, and not lifting a finger to help. He looks up as you enter the room and gets up to run over to meet you.

"House! Here this is Angie." He hands you the phone and you look down to find a picture of a beautiful young girl, with fiery red hair, adorable freckles and ice blue eyes. Damn. Yep, he's in big trouble. When the sexting starts, if it hasn't already, this kid's going to easily double the amount of socks in the laundry.

Letting out a whistle. "Redheads are a handful kid. Watch yourself." You hand him back his phone and he smiles broadly at you and you just chuckle and shake your head.

Allison approaches you with a cup of coffee, and gives it to you with a wink and a peck on the cheek. You have the sudden urge to really kiss her, as a purely informational demonstration, but you figure there is no need to traumatise Gabe and Jon just to amuse yourself and Tommy. Things have gone really well so far, no need to risk pissing anyone off on the home stretch.

You have to admit, you do really like the kid so far. He makes you think maybe you wouldn't have been so fucked up if you would have had a more liberal father, a sibling or two and maybe stayed anywhere long enough to have been able to make a few long term friendships. He's a lot like you and and, according to Allison, he is his father's son, and Gabe isn't even half as fucked up as you are, well at least that you can tell with this first impression. And that is saying a lot for you, because you can see things in people that everyone else around them might miss for years. Whatever his skeletons may be, he keeps them hidden well and away from the surface.

Jon's still more of a mystery to you. He's friendly, but quiet. He's not ready to just jump right in and be your buddy yet and this is something that you can respect him for. There is something he's struggling with, something just below the surface. He is dealing with it by locking himself away and pouring himself into his music. This is something you have in common with him, in how you pour yourself into your diagnostic puzzles as a means of avoiding other more personal struggles.

Sipping your coffee, you watch their family set up the breakfast feast, and find yourself enjoying being let in far more than you had imagined. You weren't sure what to expect. Both you and Stacy are only children. You never got far enough in any other relationship to meet the family of any other girlfriend. Wilson has a brother, but they are completely alienated from one another, so you don't even have a frame of reference there.

It's kind of nice.

Suddenly you are genuinely looking forward to seeing your mother and having her really meet Allison. Wonder if you should call her first? Na. It'll be fun to surprise her.

* * *

 _Notes:_

 _Thanks again to astavares for all the help and late night chats! I should be talking dirty in Portuguese in no time. Also a continued thanks to everyone who is reading, reviewing, favoriting and following. I'm glad my obsession is providing some entertainment for the Hameron fans out there._

 _One quick heads up spoiler warning for the upcoming chapters. There are going to be heavy spoilers for 8:14 Love is Blind. It's not a recap by any means, but you are going to find out the important information revealed in that episode, so if you aren't caught up in your watching, you'll either need to just not care about being spoiled at bit, or catch up and come back to this story._


	17. Fathers

!Spoiler Warning!: _8:14 Love is Blind - If you care about that, you may want to wait until you catch up. However, it is only a spoiler for that single episode, so it will not destroy or spoil any other aspect of season 8. This is just a victim of cause and effect, House's relationship with Cameron forces a family secret to be received sooner than later. Beyond that, read at your own risk._

 _Note: As always a big thanks to my beta_ _astavares and to everyone else who is hanging in there with me so far. I hope you are still enjoying reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. (Minus the stress of having to be creative.) Oh and a_ 'paradiddle chudda cheese' is a combination of drum stroke rudiments. The words sound like the accents created by the strokes.

* * *

Chapter 17: Fathers

Breakfast was amazing. Mariana can cook her curvy tale off.

She's also a hell of a disciplinarian, and a bi-lingual one at that, which amused you to no end. You are pretty sure the boys, well especially Tommy, took great delight in working her up to the point of abandoning English. At one point you thought all she needs is a pencil skirt and a low cut top and she could double as the Brazilian Cuddy.

God, you almost wanted to do something to get yelled at.

Cracking a huge smile as you think back on your morning, you break the silence of your drive. "Mariana certainly doesn't take any shit from her spawn, but the problem is Tommy likes fighting with her. I am pretty sure he's keeping score on how quickly he can destroy her ability to yell at him in English."

"Oh yeah. That's been going on for a while. He knows exactly what buttons to push. But he also knows the point of no return; she wasn't even close to really shutting him down today. She knows he was just performing for us. He's always this way around company, at least for the first few days."

Raising her voice, she asks in a little girl sing songy voice. "So whadda think about Angie?"

"I think he's in a world of trouble. Good thing for Gabe and Mariana she'll probably dump him for the highschool guys next year. They're a bit young to be grandparents."

"God he still so young, but then I remember some of the kids when I was in 6th grade and I think, nope, that was around about the time we all started understanding what sex was and wondering what it would be like to do it. I actually went to school with a guy who got a sixteen year old girl pregnant when he was twelve. We were in band together."

Wow, that is disturbingly possible. Wait, did she just say she was in band?

"You were in band? What instrument did you play?"

"I was a percussionist."

"No shit."

"I was section leader in 8th grade and I was center snare in marching band my junior and senior year."

Well this is something you never imagined at all. Another example of how lazy you were with researching her. What on earth did she do to you back then to get you so off your game? At least now you have Lucas to dig up dirt if you need to replace anyone.

"I totally had you pegged as a cheerleader. Or maybe volleyball."

"Hell no." She seems appalled by the idea. Probably tired of people making the assumption. "First off, cheerleading wasn't a hobby at my school, it was serious business, and you had to be a first class gymnast to even bother trying out. And there is no way I would have fit in with them. A couple of the girls were nice enough, but, at least when I was there, most of them were snobs. We didn't have a competitive volleyball team. So, no, I was a band geek."

"So, how are your drum set skills? We could start a hospital band. Doctor House and the Wet Nurses. We could audition only female instrumentalists and you all can wear those naughty nurse outfits. I could even break out my lab coat. It'd be way more cool wearing it if it were part of a band uniform."

You can feel her rolling her eyes.

"Well, as much as I'd love to trade in my MD to be one of your slutty nurse back up babes, my drum set skills are pretty nil. There were a couple of other guys in band who did that really well, so they got the spots in the jazz band, and I was too busy with school to join a garage band. So I can paradiddle chudda cheese my ass off, but I never really spent any time trying to learn to get all four limbs going at the same time."

"If your bedroom skills are anyway to judge your coordination, I think it's never too late to learn. I might have to buy you a drum set. There is nothing sexier than a hot babe, with her legs straddling a snare drum, long hair flying, and hopefully not wearing a bra so the girls can jiggle around in time."

Mmm, that's an even better mental image than the nurse outfit. Tight, ripped up jeans and a skin tight, thin, white tank top, no bra. Definitely buying the drums, and she is definitely going to have to learn.

"Can you play guitar or piano with a hardon?" She asks smugly, well aware that you are fighting one back just thinking about it.

"Wouldn't be the first time." You weren't lying about chicks digging your piano and guitar skills.

"I have a new thing for our list then. I want to suck you off while you play guitar. I am curious how long you can maintain tempo and note accuracy with my mouth working you." She says seductively.

"Depends on the song. If it is anything worth playing, not very long, honestly."

"That's okay. It's still hot."

"Do you have some sort of obsession with making me drive with a boner?" You are so very near needing to unzip your pants just to be comfortable. It's not even right that she can simply talk your fifty-year-old dick into standing full mass.

"No, I just have a general obsession with your boner. I must miss those fat marching band drumsticks; I just can't get enough of stroking hard wood against my tight skin."

You love this side of Cameron. Allison is someone you only caught glimpses of at work. A double entendre here, a smoldering look there. Occasionally you'd overhear her say something down right steaming to Chase just so she could watch him squirm. She didn't know you were around when she'd say them, or you are sure she wouldn't have.

Cameron is a serious professional. Allison is a tease.

"So, in the interest of driving safety, let's change the subject." It's one thing to get a blowjob going 35 on a side road, but quite another to get yourself this worked up on the interstate going 80. "What is the story with you and your dad? The way you acted around my parents, I never pegged you for a girl with daddy issues."

She lets out a deep sigh. "My parents and I got along great when I was growing up, now not so much. It's a long and complicated story."

"We have another three hours to drive." You prod.

After a moment of silent complication staring out the window, she takes another deep breath and starts to tell you the story.

"So, the whole thing is rooted with my mother's parents. Mom came from a pretty well off family, very upper middle class—family money paired with great business genes. Dad wasn't exactly who they would have chosen for Mom. Long story short, they thought he was a gold digger. He was offended, and to prove he wasn't, he refused to ever take a dime from them.

"He always worked his ass off, saved his money. He started his own contracting business and made really good money in the 80s and 90s. Typical made for TV movie stuff.

"Then when Grammy, Mom's mom, passed away, she left my brother and I, who were her only grandchildren, everything. She skipped right over our parents. This was during my freshman year of college.

"Dad was furious. He never wanted us to be the kinds of people who just were handed life on a silver platter. He made us both pay for our room and board during college and required us to apply for scholarships to help him with the tuition costs. It was a balance he and Mom decided on. They didn't want us in debt up to our ears, but they didn't want us to turn twenty-two having never had a job, or not knowing what it meant to have bills and a budget.

"Grammy's money not only screwed up that plan for me, but it really pissed off my father that they would skip over my mother. Or so he says.

"So, being Daddy's girl, I put my money away, and kept my part-time job and went on like I didn't have it at all for a couple of years. Then I met Brian and a few weeks later we got engaged.

"Dad liked him, but he put his foot down. He instructed me to just be a friend and not 'waste' my future on being a widow. Mom wasn't thrilled, but she respected my right to live my own life. Dad was convinced Brian was only out to use me. He didn't have insurance before the diagnosis, and getting it afterward was a near impossibility. His treatment costs, as you well know, were astronomical.

"Dad refused to support our marriage if I used my money to pay for the treatments.

"So, Brian and I went to the the courthouse with his best friend Joe, and got married in a very small ceremony and had our reception with our friends in a basement meeting room in one of the biology buildings. My parents didn't want to be a part of it, so I left them out.

"The treatments did drain my inheritance but I would do it again. He wouldn't have made it half as long without them and he was too stubborn to just keep racking up the bills that he would never live to pay. So yeah, I married him, and I paid them so he could squeeze out six months. I loved him. I wanted the treatments to work, for him to be in the 1% to make the recovery. I wanted to have his children so some part of him would live on. The whole thing turned my entire life upside down for six months.

"I had graduated early, because I was a year ahead thanks to AP credits and summer school. So, while we were married, I took time off from school and got a part time job at a lab. When Brian died, my parents did their best to make up with me. And we were ok, but there was a new undercurrent to the relationship. Dad and I knew that we should just avoid talking about the money. I used nearly all of it, like he knew I would.

"After a few weeks, I decided that I couldn't deal with it all and I needed to put some distance between me and everyone and everything that reminded me of the whole damn mess and especially of Brian. I applied to Penn Med, got in, and moved by the end of the summer.

"Things were ok, but Dad was starting to lose more and more business during the housing crisis in the early 2000s. He started drinking, again. I guess he had problems with that before when he was young, before he had us. We didn't even know he ever drank. I had no idea how bad things were becoming because I was busy and when I called home, Mom always did all of the talking.

So I finished med school, graduated second in my class. They 'couldn't make it' to the ceremony. I didn't think much about it at the time and took it at face value. Then I got the Mayo Clinic internship and was asked to stay on to do my residency and they never came to visit but I didn't think anything of that because it was a residency and I was working double shifts five days a week and sleeping the rest of the time."

"Then I saw your job opening. It was near Gabe, who I was really starting to miss, and it was for you. I'd heard so many very... interesting things about the infamous Gregory House. You know how that went, but anyway, because of all of the distance, I had no clue that Dad was spiraling. Then, when I started getting serious with Robert, I decided I should take him home for a long vacation and have him meet the family.

"The timing could not have been worse. It was 2008, and the recession was destroying Dad's already struggling business. He was cold and distant around us. Mom put on a brave front, but it wasn't long before we saw what she had been hiding. He was a complete asshole to her, right in front of all of us, at Christmas no less. Spouting off about money, and how her parents screwed them over, and I stood up and got in his face and told him off.

"I had never, not once in my whole life, talked back or gotten in a shouting match with my father. He was speechless. The next day, we tried to make up. I even offered to help him out with the business by paying off some of his debts that were on the verge of being sent to collections. That just pissed him off again.

"On top of all of that, he knows me. And he could see that I was different with Robert than I was with Brian. He knew I was settling and he threw it in my face. Later, when I told him we were getting married, he told me he couldn't afford to fly out, especially knowing it wouldn't last the first year.

"Damn him for being right about that too. But I'm his fucking daughter. I wanted him to walk me down the aisle this time and I wanted him to get over himself. I miss the man he was when I was a kid, and I still love him, but it kills me to be around him now. And if there is one thing I learned from being on your team, it is to not let anyone just walk all over me."

You can understand this. This is the thing you hated most about your father. Punishments you could take, being locked out and forced to sleep outside, or even fucking ice baths, but the fucking know-it-all honesty that can't be put aside because they think they know what is best for you, that somehow you shouldn't be allowed to make your own way in life with all of the fuck ups that come with it, pisses you off. And it hurts. It shows a lack of faith in you, a lack of trust and a lack of approval. Their intentions mean nothing, what matters are the results.

Or maybe intentions do matter. Since your father died, you've actually found yourself missing him. Having regrets that you never made the effort to know him once you became a man and now you'll never get the chance.

And on some level it is disturbing that the Allison Cameron you know, can't figure out how to work through this with her own father. Cameron, that worked her ass off to save a guy that stole her work and stabbed her in the leg with an infectious disease, Allison who loves you knowing full well what a complete ass you are, how does _she_ not see the good in her father when he is being an ass? If anyone can see it, she would.

"I don't know what Wilson has told you about my parents. I know the two of you are friends and I know that friends talk.

"I _do_ know what I told you about them and I'm sorry that I told you my father was like you. It was actually really unfair. The only things the two of you had in common were high standards, and a desire to be honest even when it's inconvenient. He was a hard-assed bastard who wanted something more from a son than I apparently could give him.

"He was abusive. I mean, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle, but it was not an ideal family situation. He used to punish me with ice bathes, or by locking me outside for the night to remind me that I'm 'lucky to have a home and parents who love me'. He never hit me, other than spanking my ass as a kid, but he could dress me down verbally in ten seconds flat.

"By the time I was Tommy's age, I figured out that he wasn't even my biological father. When I confronted him, he didn't talk to me for a summer. He even wrote me notes and slid them under my door rather than talk to me.

"I hated him so much, that I took a DNA sample at his funeral to prove I was right.

"The guy I suspect is my biological dad is a friend of the family. He wrote this book on Sermons of all things, that I've read three times and I still can't make a connection with him. Who knows if I ever will. But, the longer my dad is dead, the more I think he wasn't that bad. I can respect the man he was, even if he and I couldn't like one another."

You pause for a moment carefully considering your next words. Not being one for sentiment, it doesn't come easy, but you're getting better at it with effort.

"It's not worth it, spending your adult life hating your father. Once he's gone, you'll end up missing the good parts more than you care about the bad and at that point there is nothing you can do to fix it."

She's petting you again. Running her fingers through the hair along your temple and just above your ear. It's a soothing and gentle reminder that she loves you. You reach up and take her hand and bring it to your mouth to kiss it. Then intertwine your fingers with hers and drop your arms back to the armrest between you.

Glancing over at her, you can see a few tears have leaked down her cheeks. Damnit, you hate it when women cry.

It's a quiet ride for a long time after that. The topic being so heavy that slipping back into small talk is something neither of you wants to do.

Just as you pass the halfway point, a billboard reminds you of one of your favorite stops along the this road. The adult toy store.

What better way to lighten back up the trip than a quick detour to pick out something fun. Maybe she'll even let you know where she's been hiding her current stash. You still can't believe she doesn't own at least one vibrator.

As you take the exit, she questions you "Pee break?"

"Nope, you'll see." You answer cryptically as you make left off the exit. Two minutes later you pull the parking lot of the Hustler store.

"Sex toy shopping on the way to Mom's house? You are a naughty boy." She teases you, but a quick glance at the blush on her skin tells you she is as aroused at the idea of picking out new toys as much as you are.

You take her hand again as you enter the store. It is a huge place, a reminder that there are lots of different ways to help get people get their freak on. Having been there a few times, you know where you want to start and you lead her to a very specific aisle. The idea of some light anal play for both of you has been on your mind since Tuesday. What she let you do last night, just makes you want more.

You park her in front of a large selection of anal beads. She raises an eyebrow at you. "For you or for me?" She asks jokingly.

"Both." You answer honestly and you can see the flush rise in her cheeks and a lopsided grin plays over her features.

She lets loose of your hand and peruses the selections carefully. Turning each package of interest over to read more detailed descriptions. As she squats to get a better look at the offerings on the bottom shelf, you get a little twitch in your crotch as your prick reacts to the sight.

After a few moments she brings two packages back and hands them to you. "These both look fun. I think this one would be better for prostate stimulation." She says indicating the one in your left hand, using her doctor voice. Suddenly, you really wish you were in a clinic room right now letting her play doctor on you, her warm mouth around your cock as she slowing pulls the beads from your bottom.

"Okay. Next," You instruct her "I want you to pick something for you to fuck yourself with. I want to watch you use it."

She licks her lower lip and then bites it before looking around the area. A couple of aisles over she spots an employee and walks over to him. "Hello. I need to know where you keep your life-like dildos. You know, the ones they make from molds of real porn star penises."

The guy answers, without even batting an eye, "Sure, on the far end of the store, all along the back wall. There are also harnesses for most of them if you're also looking to strap it on." and returns to his work stocking the shelf.

She heads back to the wall, and motions for you to follow. When you reach the area, you are again taken aback at the nonchalant way Allison browses the selection of cocks. She goes quickly past the six and seven inch ones. 'Thatta girl,' you think 'under eight isn't worth your time.' She takes a liking to one in the eight inch section that is nice and thick then turns to you and asks " _Am I_ looking to strap it on as well?"

Damn. You don't really think you want that, but it is so hot that she asks.

"I don't want Wilson to get jealous. But, if you want, I can make a call and hire a girl for you to fuck. So long as I get to watch, it's not cheating."

She raises her eyebrows at you and walks over to the display and picks one harness up, looking at it seriously, and holding it up to her waist for sizing. Fuck. Would she? You swallow hard at the image.

She winks at you and puts it back. "How about we just start with this inside me" holding up the flexible dildo she wiggles it at you "and go from there."

A little more wandering around the store and you pick up some edible warming gels, a couple of vibrators in various sizes, some light restraints, and a cock ring. Not a bad first trip, for sure. You really want to fuck her now in the back of the car, but that isn't going to happen in broad daylight. So you toss your purchases in the trunk and continue on towards Lexington.

"So that was obviously not your first trip to a sex shop." You say as you get settled back on the highway.

"Of course not. I'm almost thirty-one and I love sex."

"Then why haven't I been able to find anything fun at your place? Believe me, I've snooped around everywhere."

"I know you. So I got rid of them." She states matter of factly, as if that was some sort of explanation.

"Why? You obviously don't have a moral issue against them and you can't have thought I'd object."

"I used them all with Chase." She says quietly. Almost like an apology.

"Oh." You idiot, of course she did and she's being polite professional little Cameron and doing her best to not make the work situation more awkward.

"Well, I'm extra glad I stopped for new ones then." You say as you reach over and stroke her cheek with the back of your hand.

Changing the subject, with a sly smile she confesses to you. "I've never used anal beads before. I'm really excited about them… for both of us."

You knew she'd be game, but still, to hear her say it. It makes you tingle all over. There's nothing more you want right now than to get to use your purchases. The air is thick again with sexual tension, but it will have to wait until tonight.

* * *

You pull up to your mother's home just past three o'clock and park in front of the two car garage.

Allison managed to get the conversation back on a track that didn't involve sex, by pulling out her iPad and talking over a particularly interesting article on Prophylaxis with systemic antibiotics in patients with severe burns with you. So the rest of the trip went by quickly and was actually a lot of fun. You liked sparing with her and there were lots of little things you pointed out that got her juices flowing.

Not being sure if your mother is home you leave your luggage in the trunk for the time being and head to the door. Allison looks a little nervous, but you imagine that you look much more uncomfortable. It's like you are a completely different person around your parents, or well, your mother now.

Allison takes your left hand, and you lift your cane with your right to rap on the door. You hear footfalls inside and a male voice with what sounds like a Scottish accent offers to get the door. Dammit, she must have company. But there are no cars in the drive, but maybe they parked on the street, or walked over. No matter, you'll just have to deal with it.

The door opens and it's him. Thomas Bell. The man you are fairly certain is your biological father. "Greg?" He says, with confusion. Something isn't right. Why would he be confused… wait, that isn't confusion, that is guilt. Yes, you are sure of it. He looks guilty to be answering the door for you.

"Last time I checked. We thought we'd drive up and surprise Mom." With your statement of 'we' the older man looks to your left noticing Allison for the first time.

"Oh, well come on in." Offering her his hand, "I'm Thomas Bell."

"Allison Cameron. It's nice to meet you Mr. Bell." She takes his hand but rather than shaking hers, he places his other hand around hers as well, holding it gently for a moment.

"Oh, now dear, we don't stand on formalities 'round here. You can call me Thomas." He turns back into the house, granting you entrance and calls back to your mother "Blythe, your son has decided to drop in for a surprise visit."

"Greg, is here?" You hear her from the upstairs.

"Yeah Mom, I thought I'd take a note from your playbook and surprise you for a change." You yell back just as she becomes visible at the top of the staircase.

As soon as she is in eye shot, she looks guilty as well, but as soon as you see it, it is replaced with a surprised smile as her eyes drifts from you to the beautiful woman beside you. "Greg, isn't this the girl I met from your team? Allison isn't it?" She asks as she reaches the floor.

Allison walks forward to great her, holding out her hand. "Yes. Great memory! Allison Cameron."

"Well, dear, it is so good to meet you again." She shakes her hand warmly with a genuine smile.

"Greg, I can't believe you're here. I don't even remember the last time you just dropped by." She hugs you and you awkwardly hug her back. Stepping back she takes a look at you. She's not seen you fully sober in years. "You look good. Really good. James has told me how well you're doing. I'm so happy for you."

She is completely ignoring the two ton elephant in the room. Thomas just stands in the background quietly waiting for the mini-reunion to complete. "So, you and Mr. Bell?" You ask, not being able to handle not knowing what the hell is going on any longer.

"Well, this isn't how we envisioned you finding out, but Mr. Bell and I have been seeing one another. We wanted to come visit you at some point to tell you, but you are always so busy and we didn't want to tell you over the phone."

Seeing one another. There's a laugh. Seeing all of each other's more like it.

Gross.

It is obvious there is more to it than dating. Items sit around her home that you've seen in Thomas's home. The fact he's not wearing shoes, the wedding ring on your mother's finger that matches the one on Bell's and not the one your father wore for years.

"By seeinging, you mean married." You point to her hand. "You didn't think to take off the rings."

"Oh." She says.

"Oh." You echo back.

"Well, I guess I should just be honest with you. We were married about two months after your father's funeral." She admits to you with soft apologetic eyes.

Stepping up beside her, Thomas takes her hand. "You understand, we didn't want you to think we were disrespecting the memory of your father."

You are floored and you want to scream, but Allison's hand intertwines with yours. You stare at the two people before you, your mother and the man you are pretty sure is your father, incredulously. Before you can say anything crazy, you are saved by a calmer mind. "Well, I think it's great that you don't have to be alone after John passed away. It's not always easy to find love a second time around."

"Well spoken dear." Thomas replies, always the gentleman.

"So, Greg, have you had a chance to eat?" You shake your head no. "Well, let me make you a couple of sandwiches and you can tell us all about you and Allison. It seems we both have found someone we care about and we'd love for the two of you to tell us all about it."


	18. One Big Happy Family

_Note: Continued spoilers for_ _8:14 Love is Blind, but you should know that already. :) Another t_ _hanks to my beta_ _astavares. Not much more to say here, so let's get on with it._

* * *

Chapter 18: One Big Happy Family

Sitting at the small eat-in kitchen table, you brood over the ham sandwich your mother made for you. This is not at all how you envisioned your visit going.

It should be the three of you. Your mother, Allison and you. The women should be bonding over baby pictures and you should be rolling your eyes at them, while secretly enjoying their girly affection.

Why the fuck is he here? Well, you know why he is here. But why the fuck now? Why not 51 years ago? Or 39 years ago. Or any other number of years ago when your father sent you back to this town to live for a few months before dragging you all off to some new corner of the globe for a year or two.

You wanted this day to be about showing your mother that you are finally dragging yourself out of the pit of misery that you've been in since the infarction. Now you feel like you are falling again.

'Has Allison put it together yet?' You wonder, as she talks to your mother about work. She tells her the G rated stories of her day, or at least avoiding the ones that involve random object-in-ass insertions. It is clear that both your mother and Thomas find her perfectly charming. Why wouldn't they? She _is_ perfectly charming.

"So after I left Greg's team, which was around three years ago, I got a call from the Dean of Medicine asking me if I would consider a different position in the hospital. She had a few openings but none, with any level of seniority, were in my specialty of Immunology. We'd had a few all hands on deck situations where I had been called in to work in the ER, and I enjoyed it. I also had a friend on the nursing staff at the time who gave me some extra prodding to go that direction. The other open positions were in fields I was less interested in. Dr. Cuddy promised me first call on any senior level positions that may open in the Immunology department down the road if I took the ER position, because the ER has a lot of turnover. It's not a job most doctors want long term because of the erratic pace.

"She offered to pay for an Emergency Medicine prep course and the board certification test because PPTH requires certification for all senior level positions. So I figured even if the position didn't work out, I'd come out of it with a double certification which makes getting a job at any hospital much easier."

She pauses for a moment to take a bite of her sandwich.

"She's right, all of the cool doctors are dual certified." You offer, trying to temper yourself and participate in the discussion. If it was anyone other than your mother you'd be letting your innermost jerk loose right now. Allison is giving you questioning looks every time you make eye contact, clearly seeing that you've been full of tension since laying eyes on Bell.

"And what happened to finally cause my son to get his head on straight and start a relationship?" Your mother asks, looking back and forth between the two of you with a sly smile.

"I'm not entirely sure." Allison states almost as a question. "As far as I was concerned, he'd made it clear he didn't like me that way. I got called in to help his team get spun back up after he came back from his time at Mayfield. It gave us time to become better friends I guess. He's been more open since coming back. Well, for him, at least."

You aren't sure how to answer this question without revealing too much of yourself. Fuck, why is he here. It would be less of a problem with just your mother and Allison.

"Her stunning back side just kept whittling away at my resolve until I finally gave in."

Laughing, your mother sighs, "Oh, Greg." Then looking to Allison, who just finished the last of her lunch, "Please, let me take your plate." Taking the plate, as well as yours, she places both in the dishwasher, and returns to the table.

"Mrs. Bell, where can I find the bathroom?" Allison asks. Oh, god, you hadn't even thought about that. She's not Mrs. House any more. Women her age always change their name.

"Please call me Blythe. It's upstairs, turn right, first door on your left."

"Thank you, Blythe." She answers and heads out of the room. You watch her go, wishing you had a reason she needs you to go with her.

Left alone with your 'parents' you turn your head back to face Thomas. He's been sitting quietly since you entered the kitchen, listening to the women make conversation. He smiles at you. "So, lad, how long are you planning on staying with us? Do you have some luggage I can help you with?"

"Just overnight, and yes, we left our bags in the car." You stand as does he, and you make your way in silence to the car. Opening the trunk, you realize a little too late that you have a big bag from the hustler store right on top of all of your luggage. Oops. Oh well, at least your mother didn't come with you. Plusing it aside, you hand him your bag, and you grab Allison's. He smirks at you, having seen the shopping bag logo, but says nothing of it as you close the trunk and head back toward the house.

About halfway to the door your phone buzzes in your pocket. You wonder if you might be saved by a case, so you stop for a second, put your bag down and pull out your phone. Flipping it open you see the text is from Allison. Odd.

'Is he the one?'

So she did suspect it. Good, she still isn't an idiot.

'yes' You type back quickly and hit send, then tuck your phone back in your pocket. "Sorry, work stuff." You lie to Thomas, who had stopped at the door to wait for you, and head back into the house.

He leads you upstairs toward the guest room. Your mother and Allison are already standing in the doorway. Apparently she is giving Allison the two-cent tour. "We put my old bed in the guest room. It was better for company than Greg's old double bed and it just seemed odd somehow, to share it with another man after John passed."

"Funny how that didn't bother you before he passed." You say under your breath but still loud enough for everyone to hear you as you push your way rudely between the two women to place your bag on the bed.

A moment passes and you feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn around to face Allison who is giving you a concerned, but aggravated 'Was that really necessary?' look. She was blushing as well, not particularly keen on being thrust into an embarrassing family argument on her first day with your mother.

"Blythe and Thomas, would you mind giving Greg and I a moment to get settled in? We've had a long trip and we need few moments to rest." She says, without looking back, still holding your eyes.

"Yes… I'll… uh, I'll just leave your other bag here and we'll be downstairs." Thomas answers and closes the door as they leave. She holds your eyes for a moment more, giving them time to get down the stairs before she takes your hand and pulls you toward the bed to sit down.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay." She says, and stands up, grabs the suitcase from the bed and places it in the floor. Bending down in front of you she takes your cane and sets it aside, against the dresser and then takes off your shoes. Standing she helps you out of your jacket and orders you to "Lie down."

As you do, she takes off her own shoes and crawls in beside you, wrapping her body around your side, placing her leg gently over your right one, mindful of the damaged area, and places her head in the crook of your shoulder. You wrap your right arm around her back and stare at the ceiling.

You lie like that for what seems like an eternity, but more likely is closer to ten minutes, before the normal dull ache in your thigh begins to amp up to sharp jolts of pain accompanied by spasms. It causes you to flinch involuntarily alerting your bedmate of your pain.

Uncurling herself she asks you "Need the ibuprofen?"

"I'd love a fucking Vicodin." You spit out as you are hit with another jolt of pain, and you grab your thigh.

"I know baby. I'm sorry." She soothes you running her fingers through your hair, then gets up and opens your bag, rummaging through for the pills you don't want but have to settle for. She hands three to you, seeing your pain level is high, and you take them, swallowing them dry.

"I'll go get you a glass of water." She says and turns, but you call out.

"No! Please!" You lower your voice pleading, your face starting to break a cold sweat. "Stay with me. I don't want Mom to see me like this and she'll insist if she thinks something is wrong."

"Okay." She says and heads to her bag this time, opens it and pulls something out. Throwing your head back again, as another wave of pain hits, you can't see what she has, but you feel the bed sink as she sits beside you again.

"I'm going to take your pants off and massage your leg. Okay?"

You nod yes, with gritted teeth, still staring up to the ceiling.

Gently she unbuckles your belt and unfastens your jeans. You take a breath and force yourself to lift you ass enough for her to pull off your pants. She takes not only your jeans, but your underwear as well and, despite your pain, you tease her.

"So, I take it this time I'm getting the happy ending?"

"You've been a good boy all weekend, so I think that can be arranged."

Her tone is calming and her movements careful and purposeful. You are not just her boyfriend at the moment, you are also her patient. Unlike you, her bedside manner is as good as it gets.

You hear her open the jar of cream and a second later feel her hands begin to work their magic on a throbbing member that unfortunately isn't your sex organ. She digs her thumbs in with long strokes, increasing the pressure as she works out the knotted areas. Then she switches to push her palm up your thigh, stopping just below your groin, then repeats several times.

Alternating like this, she works on you for a long time. Her hands are surely tired, but she continues until the worst of the pain subsides.

Once she knows your cramps have gone, she climbs over your body and straddles your chest. Leaning down, she kisses your forehead gently, then your eyelids, then your cheeks, finally placing a kiss on your mouth. Returning it, you slide your tongue out to taste her lips and she opens them deepening the kiss.

A moment later she breaks away. "Are you ready for your happy ending?"

"Mmm, hmm" is all you can manage as an answer.

With that she moves herself down and pushes up your shirt to fully expose your penis. You aren't hard yet, but the blood has started making its way southward and you know that it won't be long before her gifted mouth will have you fully erect and the endorphins will help chase away the rest of your pain.

"I love you Greg." She tells you then licks the flesh between your cock and your left leg, then follows with a playful low pressure bite. She mirrors the actions on your right side next, before licking each of your balls.

Continuing upward, she grazes her long and talented tongue up the center of your sack, then up the full length of your hardening shaft. Peppering kisses back down it, she repeats and her second taste ends with her lifting your dick and taking it deeply into her warm wet mouth.

A few seconds later you are fully hard and she is slowing fucking you with her mouth, taking her time to savor you with long strokes. It feels amazing and your mind is finally focused away from the pain and instead is flooded with pleasure.

You open your eyes and prop yourself up on your elbows so you can look down at her. You see a mass of beautiful, soft golden hair fanning out from your center, lightly tickling you as she works, increasing the pleasure of everything her perfect mouth is doing to you.

"Fuck, Allison!" You whisper, aware you are not in the home alone. You can feel your balls tighten and you know you are getting close. Tossing your head back you give her a short warning. "I'm going to come, don't stop!"

Grabbing the base of your shaft she squeezes with her thumb and forefinger working with the pulsing to control the flow and length of your ejaculation. Seeing white for a moment, your cock explodes inside her and she swallows your seed.

Rising from her position slowly, she climbs back over you and kisses you again. You've never had anyone love you like this. You kiss her back, running a hand through her hair, pulling her closer to you.

"Thank you." You whisper as you end the kiss and she moves to lie beside you, on your left this time, cuddling up like she did before. You lie there with her again, softly playing with her hair with your left hand, picking up strands and letting them fall. Her hair is so soft, and smells light and sweet with her smell mixed in underneath.

"I was naive to think that somehow I would be able to have a normal relationship with my mother, just because my father died. Or I guess I should say fake father."

"He's your father Greg. For better or worse, he was the one who raised you. It's his sir name you use practically as if it's your first. Why are you so sure Thomas is your biological father?"

"We have matching birthmarks."

"Oh god, at what point did you see his penis?!" She raises her head and looks up at you wide eyed.

You laugh hard at her assumption. Guess she never noticed the other one. Then again her focus has been rather singular of late, not that you are complaining.

"No, not that one. Thankfully, I have not had a reason to meet Little-Thomas. We both have a distinctive red birthmark on our scalps. You wouldn't be able to see it unless we both are sporting a crew cut."

Resting her head back on your shoulder, with a look of relief, she continues. "So, it may not be him, but given that you have this birthmark, you know John isn't your biological father because of a DNA test, and the fact your mom is now married to him, it makes a strong case."

"Exactly."

"Well, we should test him. If you're right, we can deal with it. However, if you are wrong, you don't want to accuse your mother of fucking around with this guy if it was some other person entirely. Especially if he and her didn't have an affair."

She is making entirely too much sense. Dammit.

"So, we steal some DNA, take it back with us, run the test and see if we are just one big happy family?" You summarize.

"Yeah. We'll steal his hair brush on the way out, there will be at least a few strands with a follicle attached. I saw they each had separate brushes in the bathroom."

Rolling on your side to face her, "I take it you were already planning this before my little outburst?"

She turns to meet your eyes. "I learned from the best."

Pulling her into your chest, you hug her tightly and kiss her on the forehead. With a devilish grin you tell her. "God, I love you."

It wasn't a declaration of forever, it was more of an offering of praise. But it was a start at least saying the words and meaning them.

"Not God, but I can see how you get us confused." She steals your line, and you pull back and stick your tongue out at her, before rolling on top of her and tickling her sides. You both are laughing as she thrashes and tries to escape and she nearly clips your balls.

"Hey, watch the family jewels! You're going to want those firing on all thrusters later." Pinning her down, you stop your onslaught, and look down at her smiling and breathing hard. You're a damn lucky man. You take her lips again, then release her, roll off of her and stand up from the bed. "I guess I should put my pants back on, go downstairs and try not to be me for a day. Though if I go pantless, we could find out if we have a second matching birthmark."

Shit! You feel a sharp sting on the left cheek of your ass resulting from Allison slapping you hard. You jump a bit. "Hey! You just fixed me, don't break me again. That's cripple abuse!"

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." She looks up delighted with herself.

"We do have restraints now, Mistress." You wink at her, then bend over to grab your pants and underwear, and sit back on the bed to get redressed.

"You know there is another option."

"Mmm, handcuffs maybe. But those can leave marks. Then again, you're a doctor, so you should be an expert at aftercare."

She rolls her eyes at you. "You could try just asking your mother. Tell her what you know, and ask her to tell you who your biological father is."

You grab her right hand like an over zealous Baptist minister and shake it. "Hi! I don't think we've met before! My name is Gregory House!" Yeah right, have a conversation with your mother about that time she was screwing around behind your father's back not bothering to use birth control.

"I could always talk to her." She volunteers.

Well, that would be a step up from your having to do it. But what was wrong with plan A again?

"Just when I was starting to wonder where my little Cameron had wondered off to…"

"Okay, we'll stick with the plan. But you'll have to be on your best behavior."

You put up two fingers like a boyscout and draw a cross over your heart with the other hand.

* * *

Sitting on the couch in the family room, Allison and your mother look over an old photo album. Thomas disappeared sometime after your outburst to "get groceries for dinner", aka give you and Allison some time alone with your mother. No one spoke a word about the incident, acting as if everything was perfect and right in the universe.

As you suspected, the two women were entirely giddy looking at images of you as a baby and a child. Towards the back of the book there are a few images of you during your college and grad school years.

"Oh my…" Allison says and looks up at you sipping a scotch from a chair perpendicular to the couch and you see a blush to her cheeks. Raising an eyebrow to her to say 'What?' she pulls a polaroid photo from the book and hands it to you.

Taking it, you look down to see your younger self, in your mid-twenties, shirtless, in jeans that hung low on your hips. You're posed holding an axe over your shoulders with your hands hanging over either end of it, next to a stack of firewood that you had just finished splitting and stacking for your grandparents, which was a late summer ritual for you during college and medical school. Your hair was messy and a little too long and was curling due to being wet with sweat from the exertion of chopping wood. You stayed shaven in those days, but in the image you had a day's worth of shadow. You were a little more thin, and your muscles a little more defined. By the look on Allison's face right now, you must look rather fuckable in the image.

Your mother has a knowing smile on her face at the exchange between the two of you. "He's always been a handsome man. If you'd like, you can keep that one."

"I would like that." Allison says, and you hand her back the photo, wishing for a moment that you were that man now. Young, virile and whole. Someone that was a match for her. Bringing the last of the pour of scotch to your lips you down it and reach for the bottle to pour another two fingers.

* * *

As a kid you never spent a lot of time in the kitchen with your mother as she prepared dinner. Oh, sure, if she was making a batch of cookies you could be found lurking about, hoping to get to lick the mixer paddles, but your father was of the mind that the kitchen was a woman's area, and he put you to business with other tasks while she worked to prepare meals. So, when Thomas returned with the groceries and you made your way into the kitchen to start prepping dinner, she was more than a little surprised.

Cooking helps you think. It is one of the more pleasant side effects of your early avoidance of work. You really just thought it would be a good time hanging out with Wilson, getting to make fun of his feminine side, while eating his cooking. As it turned out, you really had a flare for it. It's like chemistry with the end result of your being able to eat the experiment.

Joining you, your mother works beside you as if the two of you had done it a million times before. As you finish stuffing a breast of chicken with spinach, blue cheese and bacon, she smiles at you, clearly impressed. "James told me you took up cooking. I honestly thought he was exaggerating to make me feel better about you."

"I've been emailing you for recipes for months, Mom." You say as you continue stuffing another breast.

"And I figured you gave them to James. He has always been the more domestic one in your relationship." She says as she continues to peel and cut potatoes.

You glance behind you to the table where Thomas and Allison are seated, making light conversation between themselves, content to let the two of you work your culinary magic. Having overheard the conversation, she smirks at your mother's comment. She excuses herself to Thomas for a moment and pulls out her phone to make a quick text. A second later your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pop the chicken in the oven, then wash and dry your hands before pulling it out. 'I think she's betting you're on top. But I still say you're a power bottom.'

"You, young people and your cell phones. Always on your phones instead of living in the moment." Your mother chides you both, shaking her head.

"She started it." You whine, sticking your tongue out at Allison, who laughs at you and takes a sip of the beer she's been nursing.

* * *

Dinner was excellent, if you do say so yourself. Your mother and you make a great team. You worked hard to put your feelings about the secret marriage aside, focusing on your plan to confirm your theory, before creating another rift between you and your mother. She asked you about your upcoming birthday, wondering if you had plans. Allison jumped in and, before you had much of a say, the two women had a dinner planned.

Thomas filled Allison in on his friendship with your father, their time serving together when Thomas was a Navy Chaplain and how they didn't see eye to eye during the Vietnam War. Thomas left the service to protest the war and later became a Methodist Minister.

No one ever suspects Allison of being an atheist. So when Thomas asked her what faith she belonged to, it was a great delight to watch her counter each and every ridiculous argument for the existence of the almighty with logical and scientific reasoning. However, unlike you, her delivery prevented the debate from ever escalating to an argument. Thomas for his part, was very calm, and listened to each rebuttal, then provided his own with an equal dose of respect and pleasantness. You were torn between your enjoyment of the debate, and the desire to puke because of the nauseating politeness of the exchange.

In the end, they had to agree to disagree.

Allison volunteers herself and Thomas for cleanup, stating it is 'only fair' since they didn't lift a finger for the preparations. You return to the family room and sit with your mom.

"Allison is a wonderful woman Greg. I think she can make you happy."

"She does make me happy, mom."

"Do you love her?"

It is impossible to lie to your mother. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. And she loves you?"

"I have no idea why, but yeah, she really does."

"All I've ever really wanted for you is to be happy." She places a hand on your knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. "And she is still young. Plenty of years still left in case you decide to finally make me a grandmother."

"Jeez Mom. It's not even been two weeks."

"You deserve a family Greg. You deserve way more than you allow yourself to have. I know people, and she's a good person. She'll be a great mother. You could be a great father. I know you didn't see eye to eye with your father, but it doesn't have to be that way for your children."

If she were any other person, you would ask her to tell you the truth about your father now. But you just can't bring yourself to have that conversation with your mother. Not yet, anyway. Spending the day with Thomas reminds you that you and he have little in common. Your twelve-year-old self had fantasized about your 'real father' saving you and having a connection with you that you so desperately craved your whole childhood. You'll never have that with Thomas, but it doesn't make your need to know if he is really your father any less strong.

A family. The thought has crossed your mind. You know Allison wants one, and somehow, it stands to reason that she wouldn't be with you if she was sure you were dead set against it. She would make a great mother. Every time you think about her being pregnant, not just a little pregnant, but last trimester and fully showing, you get turned on. You know she'll be beautiful this way, with your child inside her.

It's not Allison you are worried about. It's you. Your mother has always had faith in you. Without her to temper your father's demanding nature, you aren't sure if you would even be alive. She grounded you for years, despite turning the other way too many times. It's a fucked up dynamic and you know it, but it's the only one you have.

Slouching down in your seat, you lean your head over and lay it on her shoulder. You haven't done this in thirty years. She puts her arm around you, and strokes your hair like she did when you were a boy.

"It's okay to be afraid, Greg. It doesn't mean you shouldn't have something, it just means you are sane enough to know that it isn't always going to be easy. If you didn't have doubts, I would be worried."

You aren't used to doubting yourself. In your career doubt is the mind killer. You couldn't do what you do, at the level you do it, if you let yourself doubt your ability. And people _do_ think you are crazy. But they also reinforce you by bringing you the next case. You don't deal with doubt well, which shows in your personal life. You doubt many things there. Stacy and the infarction left you mind-fucked, even more so than anything your father had ever done to you. She didn't mean to, but it's what happened none the less.

It feels good to have your mother in your corner. You pretend you don't care, but her opinion is one of the only ones you've ever really cared about.

You hear footsteps coming from the kitchen, so you sit up from your mother's embrace. No need for anyone to witness your private moment of vulnerability. Allison and Thomas are still chatting away a mile a minute. His Scottish accent, not lost from years of living in the States, colors his stories, making them sound more exotic in the telling. "And then I told them, you can't just take a man's car out for a three day joy ride and not expect him to be pissed once you return it. _Especially_ if you return it covered in green spray paint."

They laugh and you smirk, knowing the story all too well. She plops down on the couch beside you, sandwiching you between her and your mother. Thomas sits in the side chair.

"Thomas was just telling me about the time you and your lacrosse team stole the coach's car for a weekend bonfire and tailgating pep rally." She tells you and you put your arm around her.

"Yeah, Foreman's not the only one on my team with street cred. _We_ know how to get arrested like _normal_ people." You tease her and let the joke fly over the heads of the other two people in the room.

Thomas continues, "So I ended up having to bail out the whole team, because half the kids were in my congregation and none of them wanted to call their parents. The coach dropped the charges once he found out it was his boys that had been arrested for it."

"Yeah, then he took it out on us on the field. I puked three times running laps that week." You add, remembering all too well. But in the end, it paid off when your team won regionals and made it to the state semi-finals. It was a bright moment in your life that you had more than one friend in one place and time.

"Ouch. I ran a lot of laps in marching band thanks to the goofs in my section, but we never got pushed to the level of puking. That's hardcore!" She laughs again.

"Well, that's because the abuse of my generation, paved the way for the coddling of yours." You poke her in the ribs, tickling her again, and she grabs your hand and starts wrestling it away. "You just need to be spanked more, young lady."

Your mother nudges you and gives you 'the look' and you cease your banter with Allison and give your mom your best pout. "Ah, mom, we were just having some fun."

"Would either of you like another drink? We have more beer in the fridge and some wine as well."

"Sure Mom, bring us a couple of beers." You answer for both, and with a quick look to Allison she confirms.

Then, Thomas attempts to strike up a conversation with you. "So, Greg, your mother is always goin' on about your career. She tells me you've made quite a name for yourself, saving people that no one else can. Is it really as glamorous as all that?"

"I do, in fact, often get confused with God, and he's always getting the credit for my work. Think you can talk to him about that for me? It seems contrary to his teachings and all, to steal from a little guy like me."

You get a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Hey! We've talked about this. No abusing the cripple."

"Greg's teasing you. He's just not very good at it. He is, in fact, at the top of his field. He actually had over forty doctors apply and compete for three positions on his team a few years ago. That is unheard of. There is always a shortage of doctors and getting good applicants is a challenge for any position. And this was all despite his being just as well known for his... _unique_ personality."

"You mean his being an ass." Thomas asks with a straight face.

"Yeah, that." She replies.

"You know, some people find my _'unique_ personality' to be endearing and sexy."

Your mother enters again with a round of drinks, saving you. "Here you go dear." She hands both to you and you refuse to give one to Allison, turning it into a game of keep away.

"You've been a bad girl again, I don't know if you should be rewarded with a beer. It might reinforce your bad behavior."

She reaches across you to take it, and plants a kiss on your cheek as she crosses over you and you finally give it to her, stealing a quick peck on the lips as you do.

The rest of the evening goes by without incident. You tell a few of your more ridiculous stories from clinic duty, like the one about the kid who put coins all over his dad when he fell asleep drunk in the sun. You also tell them about how, yesterday night, Allison waltzed up to Dr. John, like it was nothing and got him to sign your album. Allison throws in a few stories about her nephews and your mother tells you a little more about what she and Thomas have done the past year.

Before long, they retire for the evening early, leaving you and Allison cuddled up on the couch.

As soon as you hear the bedroom door close you pull her down to lie on top of you and start nibbling her neck. She responds in kind, and for the first time since high school, you find yourself necking on your mother's couch.

"Mmm, Greg, that's nice." She whispers "but we're both too old to get caught making out on the couch by our parents. Let's go upstairs and get naked."

She doesn't have to ask twice. You both get up and walk hand in hand up the stairs to your room, glad to have a this roller coaster ride of a day finish with a happy ending.


	19. Relationships

_Note: Continued spoilers for_ _8:14 Love is Blind, also we're moving on to my alternate account of 6:20 Open and Shut. T_ _hanks to my beta_ _astavares for helping me keep my personal dislike for a certain character in check and rather than projecting them onto Cameron and House. It probably still comes through a little, but the guy is kind of an ass in this episode, especially. Thanks again to all who are taking a minute or two to leave a review! It's nice to hear that folks are enjoying the story. :)_

* * *

Chapter 19: Relationships

Your team pages you on Monday about taking on a case. Allison offers to drive, so you can phone conference in. A woman was admitted with abdominal pain, that just so happens to be in an open marriage. Some part of you wishes you could be there to talk to the happy couple. Figures you'd be out of town when a non-boring patient ends up with your team.

You take your characteristic digs at relationships and monogamy, winking at Allison when her head snaps your direction after your comment that even swans cheat, they just have better P.R than rabbits. Then nearly blows you cover by almost laughing at your comeback to Taub about him not being able to keep his opposable thumbs off plenty of women who are not his wife, but stifles it just in time to stay silent.

Taub is completely obsessed with the idea and can't keep his mind on the diagnosis calling happy open marriages "unicorns", which intrigues you to no end. How does a guy like him score a nice looking wife, get away with fucking around, then have the balls to judge someone else's solution to the same problem he has?

You send the team to do a barium enema to completely rule out Herpes.

They call back just before before five to let you know the test came back negative and her pain is gone. Taub, of course, wants to send her home, but you remind him that things like this have a tendency to recur and order him to give her radio-opaque milkshake and X-ray every 15 minutes, which will keep him there all night. But you don't give a shit, because his attitude annoys you.

Allison wagers with you on how much longer Taub's marriage will last. "I give them a year before it lands him in a divorce."

"No way. He's got six months. Tops. Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

"Are you serious?" She looks at you suspiciously. "You are. No. I am not going to actually bet on someone's marriage failing. That's just really bad karma."

You suppose she's right. Maybe Wilson would take you up on the bet. He's got all the experience afterall.

After a long drive you finally arrive home Monday evening, order dinner in and ended up falling asleep on the couch watching TV. Around two in the morning you wake up and relocated to the bedroom, thankful she is back working days for a while. You've gotten used to sleeping with her now and you like it.

Back at work Tuesday morning and you flip the switch. She's Cameron, you're House. You steal her coffee and sexually harass her, she ignores it and does her job.

Your case is now is the talk of the nurses' stations, but not because of anything related to the patient's illness. It's all about the open marriage. Everyone is a buzz about the idea of it. How can they do it? Is it really working for them as well as they would have the world believe?

You gave everyone your normal level of snark on the subject and your typical dismissal of relationships in general. Wouldn't want anyone become suspicious, though Thirteen and Chase have both enjoyed getting some private ribbing in at your expense. But both have kept true to their word and not told anyone about you and Cameron.

They are in your office now informing you that the wife is the only one taking advantage of their arrangement. The husband hasn't slept with anyone else in more than a year. Intriguing to say the least.

"He's lying." You respond, locking your hands behind your head and leaning back in your chair.

"Guy's got a license to drill. Why would he lie about not using it?" Chase asks, leaning up against the wall.

"That's not the lie. The lie is that he gives a crap about how his wife feels. If they're both screwing around, that's one thing. But if she has a piece on the side and he doesn't, the only way he'd be okay with that is if he's betraying her in some other way that, in his mind, makes them even. My unicorn isn't a unicorn. It's a donkey with a plunger stuck to its face." It's sad, really, that a man would be willing to share his wife with another man. There has to be something else.

"Right. Even the guy who's not cheating is doing it for underhanded reasons." Chase says, defensively.

"No, no, no." Thirteen chimes in "He's not being cynical. He's assuming the husband is doing something to even the score, which means he thinks there is a score, which means, cheating swans aside, House believes in monogamy. He's being romantic." She looks at you smugly, and Chase smirks.

Caught. Better think of a witty comeback quick.

Blame it on evolution. It is only natural to want your sperm to have less competition. Sharing for the man is more of a violation of the breeding imperative.

"What I believe is that men are genetically engineered to be jealous. Doesn't matter if I think there's a score. I guarantee you he does. Any of the wife's partner's pan out?"

"She's been with two people other than Tom in the last six months. Neither of them have been outside the tri-state area." Thirteen answers.

"So we're back to the husband." You say.

"You just said you believed—" Chase interjects but you interrupt before he can finish.

"He's doing something behind her back. What better cover than a business trip to Nebraska? Like that's really a place." You send them off to search the home and let your thoughts drift back to your own relationship.

You think you'd prefer to be lied to. If Allison needed sex with someone else to be happy, you'd definately not want to know about it at all, much less when and where and with whom she is getting her supplemental orgasms. No good could come of it. Honesty can be overrated.

The idea of an open relationship if all you are doing is screwing is one thing. But if there is more to the relationship than just sex, then the sex means more to you than just getting off. Affairs happen. People fall in and out of love, but before things get messy a choice should be made. Choice A or choice B. You'd told Stacy as much when she'd had an affair with you behind Mark's back, you'd felt the same with Lydia. They made their choices and hopefully never hurt their husbands with the truth.

Your mother called Wilson's, looking for you this morning. Apparently you lost a t-shirt under the bed and she wanted to know if she should mail it to you or keep it until she comes in for your birthday. You hadn't told him that you went on your little weekend tour, so of course that meant he grilled you for details for a half hour in his office before lunch.

You were a little surprised he had not even so much as texted you the whole vacation, but he's just as busy getting his relationship started as you are. The fact he knows Allison, has given him the freedom he needs to trust that if you really went missing, she'd call him looking for you. It pains you a little that he isn't more clingy, but you also realize he deserves a little bit of a vacation from you free of guilt.

Allison came by his office and found the two of you talking, so she filled the both of you in on the state of 'Operation Who's Your Daddy?' as she has begun to call it. She had very easily slipped Thomas's hair brush in her bag just before you left his and your mother's home and submitted the DNA for testing. You'll have your answer tomorrow.

After work, you drove back to your old place to talk to Alvie. After talking to him, you believe you can help him sort out his issues with immigration. You'll order a DNA test for him as well, to prove he's genetically Puerto Rican since he completely fucked up his birth certificate evidence by trying to get a fake one made.

What a fucking idiot.

Allison texted you on her way home and now you've been instructed to ask Alvie over for dinner.

She orders a couple of pizzas and the three of you hang out for a couple of hours. Allison likes him, of course. Hell, you hate to admit it, but you like him too. He's far from boring and tells her plenty of interesting stories of your time together at Mayfield.

After sending him back to your place, you start cleaning up. She falls in beside you. Spending so much time with Alvie has resurfaced a lot of emotions for you.

"He makes it all sound like we were away at summer camp, but there is a lot that went down there that I am not very proud of." You say as you, close the dishwasher.

She opens the fridge and grabs two of the Sierra Nevada with one hand then lets the door fall closed. She opens both, then hands you one. After taking a drink, you lean against the counter and continue.

"After I went through the detox, I more or less demanded to be released. I wanted nothing to do with being psychoanalyzed. I lashed out against Nolan, everyone really. My plan was to be such a huge and unrelenting dick, that they would clear me to get back my license just to be rid of me."

She leans against the bar counter, opposite you. Listening intently, no look of judgement in her eyes as she drinks her beer and watches you.

You take another drink.

"When that failed, I decided that I should play along. But my idea of playing along was to only pretend to take meds and act in the manner I knew they expected. Being me, I know exactly what they hoped and expected to see, so I put on an Oscar worthy show for them. And, for a while at least, it was working. Then Nolan actually out foxed me. Which, I still very much respect him for, because not many people have ever done that."

She smiles at you, in affirmation of your statement, still intently listening and watching you as you both work on your beer.

"And I met someone, a woman, while I was there."

Her eyes betray a look of something, surprise, jealousy maybe, but it is hard to determine as it was gone no sooner than it was there.

"Lydia. She was the sister-in-law of one of the patients, Annie, who was catatonic. She was best friends with her and married Annie's brother before Annie started losing it. She visited often, and would play piano for her sister-in-law hoping to somehow reach her. She and I became friends."

Pushing away from the counter, you amble back toward the living room and sit on the couch. She follows you and sits beside you, leaning her back against the arm of the couch and crossing her legs on the cushion so she can face you. You shift to the side and cross your bad leg over your opposite ankle so you can face her as well. Then continue filling her in on the details of the early time you spent with Lydia, and how harmless the flirting seemed at the time.

You spoke to her about the other patients too. Describing their quirks and how you interacted with them both in good and bad ways. Then you came to the part you were most ashamed of. You told her about Freedom Master.

"And then he thanked me, right before he jumped." You feel a tear escape and hurry to wipe it away before you continue, all the while Allison is still concentrating on you intently. "He was lucky to survive. Most of his body was broken and in a cast. Nolan nearly kicked me out. I mean that was what I wanted all along, and then I found out the price. It took me nearly killing someone to come to terms with the fact that I needed help. To understand I couldn't do this on my own, or just with the help of Wilson. I begged Nolan to let me stay. I started taking the antidepression meds and started actually working with the doctors there."

She moved up toward you then, and wiped another tear as it fell, before reaching to her face to wipe her own. She was good at this, just listening, not feeling the need to interject some personal story or tell you lies that it's all okay. You suppose she knows you by now, and knows you just need to vent this, and not get her take on the whole thing.

After a few moments in silence, you begin to tell her more about Lydia. About the party, the kiss, and how said kiss put your mind and heart in a tail spin. She was married, but the kiss had meant something. Something more than just friendship and it was something that you wanted and needed. Something you'd missed since before the infarction and vicodin.

"I tried to push her away. I told her that there was no scenario in which someone didn't come out of the situation hurt, but then I found her alone in a room crying, and I just came undone. I needed to be there for her, and I wanted her. I wanted her to let me love her. And she did. For a night anyway."

Telling her the rest of the story became somewhat easier. Confessing your love for someone other than Allison to Allison was emotionally draining for both of you, but you knew if she was ever to truly understand you, it was necessary. It's one a.m. before you realise it. Allison took in everything. She held you hand and kissed you when you told her how your heart had been broken.

"I'm really glad you feel you can talk to me about this, Greg. It means a lot to me that you are opening up this part of yourself to me." She says and you pull her into a hug and lie cuddled on the couch in silence for a few moments before reluctantly letting go and getting up for bed.

She curls around you and holds you as you fall asleep.

* * *

You wake up cold in the middle of the night, with her side of the bed empty. Wandering into the bathroom, you find her sleeping in the tub, with a bottle of Motrin lying in the floor, the water barely lukewarm and her skin completely pruned.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, you shake her arm gently to wake her. "Hey there. Cramps?"

"Mmm." She nods, looking down. "I woke up in pain and I was afraid of waking you. So I popped three Motrin and ran a hot bath to deal with it until the meds kicked in. I guess I fell asleep. Jesus, I look like a raisin."

You've been there; it sucks.

She informs you it's just par for the course and goes back to bed. You admire someone who can deal with their pain.

When you awoke later in the morning and pulled Allison against you, Little Greg was back to his old games and as soon as her ass was nestled against your crotch he began to let his intentions be known.

The previous two sexless nights were not intentional, they just kind of happened, but they were a well needed break. The weekend left your prostate sore, but Little Greg just couldn't help himself around Allison. And she didn't help; apparently she was extra horny all weekend because she was getting ready to start her period.

"Huh uh. I'm way past having period sex. Sorry, but your going to have to wait a few days." You are perfectly fine with this. In fact, you've never been a huge fan of period sex either, and if you need to just get off, you have a hand.

You've never liked not being able to reciprocate, so you don't expect her to service you. Even with prostitutes you like to give and receive. But you have a reputation to maintain, so you tease her. "I happen to know that you still have a very talented mouth."

She rolls over to face you. "And I happen to know that you still have a very talented hand." Kissing you, she leaves you in the bed smirking back at her.

Guess you are getting a longer break than you thought. Fine. Your balls really could use the chance to refuel.

It's not a news flash about how her cycle affects her mood, it's more of a confirmation of a theory that you've had about her since about six months into her fellowship. Some days you could feel her eyes all over you when she thought you weren't looking. You'd have her run labs those days and make sure to stand just a little too close behind her while she was working to feel the shivers she would try so desperately to repress. Without fail a few days later, she'd let her bitch out to play a bit, and you'd know the dam broke. A few days after that, back to grandma's teddy bear.

Of course that was the professional side of her cycle. Her personal side, you now know, deals with a nearly bottomless pit of lust for your cock for a few days prior to the dam breaking, followed by cramps to rival your worst leg pain, which tend to strike her at fun times like three in the morning.

You decided that after the night you both had, it would be nice to make a real breakfast, so instead of going back to sleep, you get up with her and cook eggs and bacon while she's in the shower.

Today you find out if you have a father or if you are still a bastard. Your bet is still pro Thomas, but after having spent time with him, she thinks there's no way, because he is way too likable and caring. You bet $200.00 and a back rub on it before it is back to work and back to House and Cameron.

* * *

Wow. Taub is blaming your for his being an idiot… again. Just because you play devil's advocate while debating an interesting topic, it doesn't mean you are given him actual life advice. Jeez.

"I brought up open marriage with Rachel. It was a disaster." Really, that is your fault?

You take your jabs at him and get your team back focused on your patient's sex life rather than Taub's. The consensus this round is adrenocortical carcinoma, so you send them off to MRI her adrenal glands.

And while on the subject of relationships, apparently Wilson's love life isn't going quite as smoothly as yours. Big surprise there. Of course instead of talking to his girlfriend about the things that piss him off, he has decided to just ruin your lunch with whining instead.

"You should tell her it pisses you off. Don't be a fucking pussy Wilson." With your best flirtatious gay man impression, you continue "You never pull your punches with me and we've been a happy, healthy couple for years. Love like ours is built on knowing you melt down when milk is stored in the door of the fridge or when cups are placed on anything outside of the kitchen without a coaster." then eat a fry off of Wilson's plate.

Not at all phased by your open flirtations, he replies "Or I can keep my mouth shut, be annoyed sometimes, but be happy, because I'll still be with her."

"If she doesn't know, she's gonna have every right to feel you're overreacting when you do finally explode and take it out on another unsuspecting and innocent bar mirror. Tell her what you want. If doing that causes her to walk out for the second time, well, your relationship wasn't gonna last anyway."

Swatting your hands away from his plate as you attempt to steal more of his lunch and looking around to make sure you are out of earshot of other occupied tables he shifts the topic to your relationship. "Does Cameron tell you about all your domestic habits that piss her off?"

"I love how you just automatically assume I'm the one who's going to have the annoying habits."

He shifts his head slightly to one side and raises an eyebrow at you incredulously.

"So far, she has not. But strangely, I don't think that she is annoyed with anything yet." Stroking your chin as if you are having a maniacal thought, you continue "It's like all those years with me as a boss had her prepared for something way worse."

This earns you an eye roll and heavy sigh from your friend, before giving you a contemplative look, squinting his eyes slightly and shaking his head in disbelief. "So, you've been joined at the hip outside of work for two weeks, including three full days together and she isn't ready to kill you and you haven't felt the need to run away from the caring. Interesting." Again raising an eyebrow.

"The only fight we've had was over you and your doomed relationship." Quite pleased with yourself and your little relationship report, you quickly steal another fry and put it in your mouth.

"Let me guess, she wouldn't agree to help you sabotage my life?" Sighing, he gives up on guarding his plate and pushes it to the middle of the table.

"More or less." Changing the subject back you advise him again "Look Wilson, if you got an issue, let her know."

He doesn't comment still not convinced. "Fine. Stew in your irritation. And sure, last time it bubbled over into resentment and rage, leading ultimately to a painful divorce that neither of you ever really recovered from, but I'm sure this time it'll be great."

* * *

Your phone buzzes with a text from Cameron. 'Wilson's office ASAP. OWYD results.'

'k' You text back and get up from your desk and take the backdoor to the balcony and hop the wall to head your friends office. Luckily for him, he is alone, as you barge your way through his backdoor.

"Cameron's on her way. She has the results of my paternity test." Plopping down on his couch you bounce your cane with nervous energy as you wait.

"I still can't believe your mother's been married behind your back for over a year. Then again, she's the one we _are sure_ you've gotten DNA from."

You shoot him an irked glance just as a knock comes at Wilson's door. A second later Cameron pops her head in, and upon seeing the coast is clear, enters the office fully and tosses a folder on Wilson's desk. "Wanna do the honors?" She asks him.

He opens the folder and looks over the results. Raising both eyebrows, he shakes his head. "He's not your father."

Unbelievable. Standing you march to the desk and grab the results from him and look for yourself, then hand them to Allison.

"Looks like you owe me $200 bucks and a back rub, babe." She gloats.

"You guys put money on the results?" Wilson asks.

"Yep. Apparently, he's too _'nice'_ to be my father." Pulling out your wallet you pull out the cash and hand it to your girlfriend who takes it and stuffs it her waistband. You give her a lascivious look. "If you wanna go ahead and take of your shirt…"

"Let's not traumatise Wilson." She replies with a coy look.

Wilson leans back in his chair with a smile. "So long as you're the only one taking off your shirt, I think I'm good." You raise your cane at him.

"Watch it, asshole. Not all men are ok with sharing their woman." You mock threat.

"Mmm, all this testosterone. I think I'd better get back to the ER before you guys get all caveman on me." With that, she kisses your cheek and heads out of the office.

"So now what?" He asks you.

"According to Cameron's plan, we talk to my mother."

* * *

You were right about the couple. He was hiding money issues. A problem with their health insurance brought it all to light. The wife's kicked him out of her room. Apparently, she thought that she had a relationship built on honesty and trust. She apparently doesn't know your theory on relationships and lies.

After watching the fireworks, you head to the ER and find Cameron up to her neck in a four car accident. She gives you an apologetic look, and you head back to your office. Not long afterward, Thirteen comes by, and after some discussion, you send her back to run some more blood tests before you get ready to leave for the night.

Knowing that Cameron is going to be stuck working over, you decide to head to your place and talk to Alvie. You've submitted his test and it will be back in on Monday. So hopefully you'll have the matter resolved soon and he'll be out of your hair.

It's odd hanging out there. It doesn't quite feel like home anymore but there is something nice about being around your stuff. After hanging out for an hour or so you decide to put Alvie to work helping you migrate your guitars and amp, your record player, about twenty of your favorite LPs, and a collection of your medical texts to Allison's.

She texts you around seven-thirty to ask if she should pick dinner up on the way home, so you call in Chinese. You are just finishing getting everything set up when she walks through the door with dinner. She places the food on the bar then wanders into the small living room to admire your work.

You've hooked the record player up to her stereo system and your guitars are now hanging on the wall beside the kitchen and your amp is under them against the wall. Standing beside you now, she gives her approval "They look like art just hanging there. It's nice, like the place is actually a home." then stands on her tiptoes to kiss your check.

As she heads back to the kitchen to distribute the food, she waves to Alvie who has crashed on the couch after doing most of the lifting, drilling and hanging. "Hey Alvie! Hope Greg didn't work you too hard."

"Na. It's all good. Now that we have the record player hooked up we can rock the house with some classic vinyl. Hey, you have a great system by the way. Those Advent speakers are fucking classic."

"Yeah. They were my dad's. He gave them too me when he got a surround system in the mid 90s so I could have them for college. After the reactions I got from my audiophile buddies, I've made sure to hang on to them. I used to have his record player too, but it didn't survive college and I had my collection on CD or mp3 by then anyway, so I gave my vinyl to my brother, Gabe. I regret it now. Vinyl's making a comeback and those speakers were made with it in mind. They're older than I am."

That makes you groan. "Ug. Don't remind me I'm dating a child. I remember when these came out. One of my friends parents had a set." Flipping through your records you select _Let It Bleed_ by the Stones, pull it out of the jacket carefully, and place it on the turntable. "Time to see if this works." You lower the needle and the familiar pop and white noise is followed by the intro to "Gimme Shelter." Fuck yeah, turn that bitch up.

Raising the volume, you grab your cane and start playing air guitar which earns you a huge smile from both Allison and Alvie. You twirl it and head to the side chair as she brings in a plate of noodles for you with chopsticks stuck in. She hands a second plate to Alvie, who sits up and starts digging in. You love how she always bothers to plate up take out.

"What do you guys want to drink? We've got water, coke and some Sierra Nevada."

"I'll have a coke." You tell her.

"Same." Alvie says, with his mouth half full.

A moment later she places your drinks on the coffee table, then grabs her own food and drink and joins you, sitting on the couch by Alvie.

After dinner you kick out Alive, produce a couple bowls of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and convince her to spend the rest of the evening on the couch with you catching up on the current season of Breaking Bad. You'd been surprised to find the show on her DVR. Not a month before you'd gotten together, you'd binge watched the first two seasons on Netflix. It's a fucking epic show. You'd thought it a bit dark and maybe even too close to home for the likes of Allison, what with the whole cancer/meth theme, but apparently not. She's an avid Bryan Cranston fan.

It's another of the little domestic routines that you find yourself falling back into. Each step toward a long term relationship becoming less awkward and less frightening.

After ice cream, you have her prop her feet up on your lap so you can massage away the soreness from the hours spent on her feet in the ER. Then she returns the favor, sitting behind you on the back of the couch, she pulls off your shirt, then proceeds to give you a shoulder and back massage that rivals sex. You are reminded that you still owe her a back rub for the lost bet, so you have her end the night sitting between your legs topless as you work out the knots from her long day.

Seeing so much of her delicious milky flesh has you wishing she wasn't ragging. As you finish you turn her around and pull her into your lap and kiss her. Even though you know you're only teasing yourself, you let your mouth wander down her neck, then to her clavicle and finally to her perfect little tits. As you give each a suck, she moans "You know my rule. No matter how fucking much I love your mouth on my tits, I am not breaking it." and with that she leans in and kisses you once more before getting up and tossing her shirt back on.

Holding a hand out she pulls you up and you head to the bedroom to start getting ready for bed.

* * *

This morning, Allison brings up the fact that you and Wilson haven't had a 'date night' in a while. She knows you, and even though you are very content coming home to her each night after work, you are starting to have some Wilson withdraw. You begrudgingly agree that Wilson is probably "going through withdraw from gay sex with your tight little ass, and you hate to deny him the honor."

She laughs and tells you "There is no way I could share you openly with anyone else, but I'll never be able to deny you your true love's hot cock."

A moment later she's dialing Sam and, before you know it, you've both been kicked out of bed by the girls for Friday night and told to go do some male bonding.

You suppose that some space from Allison is in order anyway. Some time apart to process all of the time you've just spent together is not a bad idea. You didn't come up for air with Stacy and spent the first few months thinking with nothing but your dick and look where that got you. Besides, your on sex probation until Sunday anyway.

You arrive to work to find that all the tests had turned out negative and that Taub's wife changed her mind and gave him the green light to go fuck other women.

Oh and he is gloating now. What a fucking idiot. That goes for his wife too. You wouldn't want Allison to be okay with sharing you, in fact her statement confirming as much earlier that day had made you breathe a sigh of relief. This case was bringing up a lot of strange relationship questions for you in these very early days of yours.

It's a long day following the diagnosis trails, but an epiphany, and an exploratory surgery later, you land on IBD and order your team to start her on sulfasalazine and TNF inhibitors just before you head for home. You decide to cook tonight and take a trip to the grocery. Maybe some beef fillet with gorgonzola sauce and a tartiflette.

You pull in the lot just behind Allison. She waits for you at the door and holds it open for you to carry in the bag of groceries. Heading to the kitchen she offers to help you prep, and you take her through the steps of preparing each dish. You're a much nicer cooking teacher than boss. Plus now you can actually act on your desire to touch her, or lean your body into hers as you stand behind her. It's easier to not be a jerk when you can just do all of the things you want to do to her. Well, not all the things, at least until Sunday, but most of the things.

She's actually a quick study and an hour later you are reaping the rewards of your work with a glass of Pinot Noir. Why didn't you learn to cook sooner? Why didn't you get your head out of your ass and date Allison sooner? Can't go back and fix it now, but your damn happy you finally did.

You tell her about the latest in the Taub drama. She has the dirt from the other side of _As the Taub Turns_ , via the nurses' station. Apparently Maya was all a glow as well today. Shamelessly flaunting her new status as Taub's mistress.

"I have no idea how he does it. I don't find him attractive at all. But to each their own I guess." Shaking her head she cuts another bite of her fillet and makes a face of complete ecstasy as she places it in her mouth and chews.

"Plus, we know you aren't a fan of kosher weiners." You say, as she licks sauce from her lips and you imagine that same tongue on your dick licking away your dripping precum.

"Just another reason to debate the existence of the almighty. Why give men a foreskin only to demand it back in a very painful and public ritual. That's just fucked up." She takes another bite and you are sure that you might have to shower tonight, just so you can take care of Little Greg.

After dinner, you play for her while she curls up on the couch. She's giving you the look of someone who can't quite believe what they are witnessing. "What?" You ask her, as you start riffing on a blues.

"I had this idea of you like this, before I got really involved with Chase, when I still hoped you'd come around and change your mind about us. You, me, sitting around after work, you playing for me, showing me the side of you that isn't always a miserable jerk. After I would break from my little day dream, I'd laugh at myself, because I figured _this_ you was a figment of my fantasy. Sometimes I feel like I might wake up and find it still is."

Continuing to play, you reply "Mmm, let me see. There are signs you can look for to know you are hallucinating. As you know, you are talking to an expert. Firstly, and most importantly, are there any dead people in room?"

She laughs at you, and looks all around, then turns back to you and answers. "No. No dead people."

"Good. Now, did you happen to start a vicodin or other narcotic drug habit recently?"

"No. I've learned how to let loose without doing stupid things like that." Yeah, you suppose that one meth fueled night with Chase might do that to a girl. Though you do have to admit, it definitely rubbed some dirt into that teddy bear image you had going for her.

"Okay, then. One last question. Am I naked?"

She tosses a pillow at you, and you dodge it letting it hit the wall behind you, never missing a beat.

* * *

Well, it was an eventful work day on Friday. Taub's wife did another about face, so no legal nooky for him. Your faith in her is at least partially restored, though now you just kinda feel bad for her, because you doubt that will stop him, now that the seed of lust has been planted.

Your mom and dad helped you solve the case. Well, something they did close to forty years ago did anyway. Turns out it was Henoch-Schonlein Purpura brought on by a bee sting. Had you not seen the flowers from their garden you'd never had thought to ask if she had been stung. You'll have to let your mom know that the fight she lost over her Lilacs saved a woman's life thirty-nine years later.

Man, that is so cool.

Who knows if the patient's marriage will recover as well as she will physically. And you really are going to have to kick your team's ass more. This is two cases in a row they missed an environmental key to solving the case! Why the hell do you send them out in the field and to break into people's homes? If they aren't getting the information to solve the case, why the hell are they risking going to jail? Fucking idiots.

You'll deal with them later, now it's time for a night of bromance and dirt bikes. You scored a couple of tickets to an FMX game. There is nothing like the roar of dirt bikes and the high percentage likelihood of someone sustaining life threatening injury to get the testosterone flowing. Not to mention cheap beer and hot dogs.


	20. Playing Nurse, Then Playing Doctor

_!Warning!:_ _There are some graphic depictions of anal play in this one. I know this is not something everyone is into reading, so I have marked the section for you so that you can overt your eyes and skip past it. So basicly, you can watch the uncut version, or the TV adaptation, so to speak. (Though, the other smutty things aren't going to be on TV either. :P)_

 _When you come to the '************' skip ahead if you don't want to read the anal play part. Otherwise, read past them them and enjoy. It is safe to start again at the matching '************'._

 _Note:_ _My continued thanks to astavares for her encouragement and helping keep me on the path. I had to do a lot of research for this one. Being female and not a doctor, I had very little idea what happens in a man's physical examination. I had a very helpful male friend and lots of time on the internet to try to make the dialog and process seem like it was something two doctors would say and do while playing doctor. If you are in the medical field let me know how I did, for good or bad. I want it to be believable, despite it being a smutty little jaunt away from the main plot._

 _As always thank you for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

Chapter 20: Playing Nurse, Then Playing Doctor

"Wow. You're really supposed to keep me from drinking like that. Jesus, I feel like I came home with a dirt bike in my head." Groaning, you lie your head down on the kitchen table. Smushing against it contorts your face. Your voice seems about a perfect fifth too low and is hoarse from talking and cheering over the roar of dirt bikes and later shout-talking in an overcrowded bar room.

Seated across from you, your best friend raises his own head from the table and groans back at you. "You're a grown man and a doctor, House. You know the side effects of drinking on anti-depressants, if you decide to drink yourself into a coma, I can't stop you. Besides, I am pretty sure I was way ahead of you the whole time, thanks to the fight with Sam." He rolls a medicine bottle across the table, and it hits the arm that is draped in front of your aching head. "Take some aspirin. I'll get us some water."

Without raising your head more than a few inches, you eye the bottle suspiciously, sure that you are way past aspirin. "I've got a better idea. Wanna head to the hospital and get a IV fluid replacement? It'd be faster."

"Is Cameron working today?"

"Na. She worked Tuesday through Friday, then again, she is on call today, so maybe. Seems like she never gets to have her on call day off. I'll text her."

Wilson hands you a water, and you rise back up, regretting it instantly. But, a moment later you reorient and the added pounding caused by the motion subsides from brain piercing to just brain smashing. You dig in your jean pockets, the jeans you slept in, because you were too fucking drunk to do more than fall into bed, apparently, anyway, because you don't really remember, and pull out your cell.

'u home?' Hitting send, you only have to wait a minute or so before she texts back.

'No. Called in, of course. :( Tho things are winding down, so I might head home after lunch.'

'we r coming 2 see u'

"Come on Wilson. Cameron's at work. She can play nurse. I'll even let her play nurse on you."

Before you can move, your phone rings. It's her.

"Roadkill Cafè. You kill 'em, we grill 'em." You answer, voice still low and gruff.

"I thought you mummified them." She replies deadpan. "Damn, you sound like shit. Let me guess, you want to come in for a hangover cure? And here I thought you might just want to get me and Wilson together for a hot threesome in my office."

"You're supposedly still ragging. But, if that's changed…"

"Look, I'm going to be leaving soon and honestly, in the state you're in, I'd rather not have you guys at work. How 'bout I just make a house call?" She asks you curtly.

"Mmm. Okay. But hurry."

"I'll be there in less than twenty. Put Wilson on the phone please."

You slide your phone across the table, much in the same way Wilson passed you the aspirin. He looks at you with a questioning expression. "She asked to talk to you."

He picks up the phone and places it on his ear and says "Hello." Then holds it back away from his ear with a wince. You can hear Allison's voice and make out some of what she is saying. Damn she sounds pissed. "But I…"

More yelling. Something about her trusting him to take you out for one night, something about him breaking you, side effects, then kicking his ass. You love her. Instead of yelling at you, she is totally taking the whole thing out on Wilson. It sounds epic. Wilson tries to get another word in. "How is…" He pulls the phone away, apparently being hung up on. "this my fault?" He finishes.

"Sounds like Daddy's in trouble with Mommy." You say as you watch him lay his head back down against his arm and slide your phone back.

"She's pissed at me. Thanks. How is this my fault?"

You shrug your shoulders, with a grunt. "I think it's great she's mad at you and not me. It means I still get sex on Sunday."

"Glad one of us is." He replies, his voice muffled by his arm and the table.

"Look, you told Sam how you feel. Then you had a fight. Either it wasn't going to last anyway or she'll cool down and come back. Either way, I get to tell you I told you so."

"This just isn't my day."

* * *

Around twenty minutes later, a knock comes at the door of Wilson's condo. Before either of you can respond, you hear it open, close and then footsteps and something rolling. "Um, you guys left the door unlocked. Wow. The two of you look smashed."

"Sam dumped Wilson yesterday over lunch. We drank a little too much." You hear her drop a bag on the counter, as the rolling sound stops.

"Um, we need to work on your definition of 'a little.'" Both you and Wilson sit up slowly. From the corner of your eye you see her, still dressed in her scrubs, take two fluid bags from a duffle she carried in. Hanging them from an IV stand she must have brought with her, she returns to the bag to grab tubing and sets out tourniquets, catheters, swabs, tape and a box of gloves out on the counter. Once the tubing is attached, she grabs gloves and snaps them on and gives you a wink.

Good. She is still flirting with you.

"Okay, Greg first." Taking your arm she ties it off at your bicep. Grabbing a sterile swab packet, she opens it, finds your vein and wipes the swab over it. She takes the catheter, inspects it, removes the safety cover and inserts the needle into your vein with a gentle and practiced hand. She grabs the tape and secures the catheter in place before removing the needle and attaching the tubing to the catheter and taping it in place. She pushes the fluids, then removes her gloves and lifts your chin to give you a kiss, before grabbing another pair and repeating the process, sans kiss, on Wilson.

"Sorry, I yelled at you, James. I didn't know that you got in a fight with Sam. I just get worried about Greg drinking too much and doing something stupid. I just figured if he had a babysitter that wouldn't happen. Do you even know how you got home last night?"

"Um, cab I think. We drove to a bar after the FMX games and made the awful decision to switch from beer to scotch. Got smashed. At some point, I think the bartender offered to call us a cab, then I don't remember much. Obviously we made it home."

"What happened with Sam?" She asks as she takes off her gloves and starts cleaning up.

"I told her about some things she does around the house that annoy me, then she asked when I became so anal, then I told her I always was, she more or less called me a pussy for never talking to her about my feelings the first time around, I called her a selfish bitch. Lots of other smaller points were made with yelling in between, then she left and I went back to work."

"Want me to call and talk to her?"

"Nice of you to offer, but no. I hate to say this, but House is right. Either this was never going to work anyway, or she'll call me once she cools off. No need to drag in a third party. All we did was talk through third parties last time, so this time either we deal directly or we just cut our losses."

"So you're taking relationship advice from Greg now. Interesting."

It always annoys you how little respect you get for your opinions on relationships. Your an ass, but you do, in fact, understand what it means to have a successful relationship. "Hey! We're doing good, aren't we? And everyone here always forgets that despite the fact that the two of you have me beat in numbers on marriages and engagements, I have the record for longest successfully sustained romantic cohabitation."

Leaning against the counter, Allison sighs, then nods her head. "Well, I'll concede the point there. Though, to be fair, I don't think my first marriage should be counted against me. I need to shower off the hospital funk and get changed. I hate wearing scrubs out. Hopefully by the time I get done, the two of you will be well on your way back to fully hydrated and we can go get some food. It's past noon and I'm starving."

With that, she grabs her duffle and heads back towards the bedrooms to shower and change.

* * *

The consensus for lunch is to hit an iHop for a late breakfast instead, because there is nothing better after a night of drinking than bindging on _healthy_ options like pancakes or runny eggs. Sam calls Wilson about the time you order coffee. He excuses himself from the table and comes back ten minutes later with a smile on his face.

"She's happy we hashed it all out. She's going to join us; should be here in about ten minutes."

Well, you have mixed feelings about that news. Part of you wants Wilson to find a woman who makes him happy. Part of you is selfish and wants to hord both Wilson and Allison from anyone else. They both give you what a lot of what you need, but as individuals can't give you everything. Allison is amazing, but there are always going to be things you can't talk to her about as freely as you can with Wilson. And you want romantic love, and dare you say it, maybe even a family, and as funny as Two and a Half Men is, it isn't quite the situation you had in mind.

It occurs to you, that once Sam joins you, your party is going to look a lot less like friends out for a late breakfast, and more like a double date. You glance to Allison to see if she looks worried about it, and find her face neutral. "You worried at all that someone we know will see us coupled up and figure out we are together?"

"Not really. I'd still like to keep it quiet at work a couple of more weeks, but I am also tired of worrying about being seen out with you. We work together, so it's not like it should be a huge shock to see us grabbing a meal or having a drink together. If the word gets out, fine, otherwise we just keep going as we are, blissfully free of people giving us unwanted relationship advice."

"So what you are saying is no making out in public just yet?"

"Yeah, that's about right."

You give her a pouty face and she smiles and takes a drink of her coffee.

A few moments later and Sam arrives and the waitress comes by again and takes everyone's order.

"You can't get a salad. This is iHop." You interrupt your girlfriend as she orders, with a look of true and utter disbelief.

"I'm seriously going to get fat if I keep eating like I have been with you. Between the cooking and your take-out preferences, I'm probably taking in another one thousand calories a day, easy."

"Which I bet we are burning off with sex. It's not like either of us just lies there. That thing you do when you're on top, has to at least kill a few hundred calories by itself." She elbows you in the ribs playfully, trying to look pissed but failing.

"And again, House, other people in the room. Right here at the table even." Wilson looks up, at the waitress with a look of absolute embarrassment. "I'm sorry about my friend. He has Tourette's and can't help himself."

"Don't listen to him. He is just jealous that he has to share sexy time with me now." You wink at Wilson. Sam and Allison giggle.

"Alrighty then." The waitress, does her best to ignore you and reads back the order. "We've got a Split Decision over medium, a Strawberry and Banana French Toast combo scrabbled, a Southwestern Club, and a House Salad with Honey Balsamic. Coffee and water still good for everyone?" Everyone nods and, with a thank you, she is on her way.

"Doesn't it bother you when he does that?" Wilson asks Allison.

She shrugs her shoulders."I knew who he was before I signed up. Do I sometime hope he'll surprise me with adult behavior? Sure. But I'm saving my temper for the really important stuff, not the hopeless battles."

You stick your tongue out at Wilson.

"Oh James," Allison says suddenly, like she just remembered something important to tell. "I never thanked you for hooking me up with a realtor. I emailed Bonnie a few weeks ago. She left me a message asking for details, but I've been so busy the last two weeks I haven't had a chance to email her back. I was going to try her again soon, since things are settling in now. I really hate my apartment, but it works, so I've let myself put it on the back burner."

"Oh good. I'm always happy when I can help her out and toss her some business. So have you decided what you are looking for?" He replies.

"Not really. I kind of like the idea of getting an actual house, maybe with a small yard. I used to love to garden as a kid. Of course now, I'd probably have to hire someone to keep it up, because of my hours. So that has me wondering if going the condo route is a better choice, but dollar for dollar you can get so much more square footage out in the suburbs."

You are intrigued by the line of conversation. It is no secret she planning on buying a bigger place, but you hadn't given it much thought to how it would affect you now that you are more or less living with her. Everyday finds another item or two of yours migrating to her place. She welcomes all of it, and even told you she'll box up her heavy winter clothing and move it to her storage room this weekend to help make more room in her drawers and closet.

You should call Bonnie and get in on the house hunt! If both of you went in together, you could afford an amazing place. From your conversations, you know she has a good savings. You have a nice nest egg, as well as owning your apartment free and clear, which being in a desirable neighborhood would fetch a nice price, despite the overall housing market still being down. Maybe you should talk to her about it. Or... maybe you should just set up some showings for tomorrow. Sunday's always a good day for house shopping.

The route of conversation is always less desirable to you than the route of action. If you surprise her with a little home tour, you'll know in about 30 seconds if she is willing to jump in both feet with you or not. She won't have to say a word and neither will you.

The more you mull it over, the more you like the idea. Once your mind is made up, you return your focus on the conversation as Wilson eagerly offers his advice to Allison.

"I love my place, but it did cost me to have modern and upgraded place with the convenience of city living. You should talk to Cuddy. She knows the neighborhoods really well and she can give you an idea of the utility and yard maintenance costs. I think she's in an HOA, so that factors in as well. I can give you numbers on the condo association fees and all of that. Of course, Bonnie will have most of that kind of info too, but it doesn't hurt to talk to people who've been looking recently."

As your food arrives, conversation drifts to your guy date. Both of you conveniently leave out the part about getting smashed because of Sam breaking up with Wilson, focusing instead on tales of daring bike stunts and the bet Wilson lost over whether or not one particularly spectacular and daring contestant, Jamie Richardson, was male or female. You don't plan on telling him that she's the sister of one of your prostitutes and that's how you scored such great tickets. But what Wilson doesn't know, won't hurt him, and the $100 you made certainly doesn't hurt you.

Sam is rather quiet, but you assume that is because she probably had a rough and lonely night herself, and doesn't really feel like sharing.

After brunch, you go your separate ways. Sam taking Wilson to go by the bar to pick up his car, and you with Allison.

"You need a shower, by the way." She informs you dryly. "It wasn't so easy to eat at the same table with the two of you."

"Yeah?" Raising your arm, you give your armpit a sniff. Fuck; you smell like B.O., booze and exhaust fumes. You hadn't really paid attention to it before, but now you suddenly feel really dirty. "Can you drop me off at Wilson's? I need to get my car and I have some things there I'd like to pick up."

"Okay."

A few moments later, she drops you at the door of Wilson's building. "I'll see you at home." She says as you open the door. Another good sign that she considers you as living there now, just as you do. Yeah, talking about it would clear it up, but there is some sort of comfort about the way the two of you are just letting every things happen without having to muck it up with platitudes.

You pull your phone out as soon as she drives away and find Bonnie's number.

"Hey Bonnie. Greg House. Listen, my girlfriend and I are looking for a place."

* * *

"I thought that was Wilson's?" She asks you from her seat on the couch, when you enter the apartment, her eyes focused on the large grey exercise-ball in your arms.

"It was, until he found out we were using it for sex. Then he had the sudden urge to give it to us. Good thing he doesn't know about the kitchen table… and the counters… oh, and the floor." You drop the ball and hold your finger up like you just had a 'light-bulb' moment. "Weren't you looking for a new place? He might give that to us too, if he knew just how many surfaces we've deposited DNA on."

She laughs at you and walks from the couch to you, puts her arms around your neck and leans her head back to beg a kiss, which you are more than happy to give her. Your tongues are envolved seconds later and you let your hands wonder down to her ass to give both cheeks a gentle, yet firm, squeeze. "Please tell me Aunt Flo is having a short visit this month. I need to be inside of you soon. The break was nice, but Little Greg is getting frisky again and he isn't so interested in Sandy Palmer when he's around a more soft and sexy option."

"Sorry, babe. One more night. I was half joking the other morning though; I don't mind given the occasional blow job while you have to wait. I just wasn't in the mood for that kind of thing when I was cramping and feeling gross. But if you'd like one now, I'd actually enjoy giving it to you."

"God, that is a tempting offer, but… and if you tell anyone about this, I'll deny it to my grave, I really would rather not feel like I'm just be serviced."

"And if I give you a rain check to return the favor tomorrow?" She asks smirking, brows raised.

Raising both eyebrows, you cock your head to one side and nod "Well, when you put it that way… where do you want me?" then focus your mouth's attention on her neck, just below her left ear.

"Mmm. That's nice. Wanna go into your office?" She asks, while you nip and kiss. "We can play the game where I still work for you and I've been a very naughty little doctor."

"Or, we could get a room in the clinic" you wisper in her ear "and Dr. Cameron can give me a full physical complete with a prostate exam." then bit playfully at her lobe "We do have those new toys we need to try."

"God, that's hot." She sighs breathlessly, her eyes closed and head rolled back to allow you full access. "Let me change into something work appropriate and get the beads. How about you head over now, snag a room, strip to your boxers and text me the room number when you are ready."

Stopping, you look down on her with a shit-eating grin, "You really get off on inappropriate work conduct don't you?" which she returns and places a finger to your chest.

"And you thought I only wanted you because of your sexy limp, when what I really wanted was to be with the expert in work-inappropriate behavior."

It is tempting to get a dig in about Chase, but your instincts tell you that is a path to something she would consider worthy of expressing her temper over. She's still got a level of guilt there which means she's not one of those people who likes to take pot shots about her former sex life with her ex. You feel the same way about Stacy, really. Beside, you both know the sex you have together is great. Why the hell compare apples to oranges?

"Well, no time to waste then." You break your embrace and give her a playful smack on the ass. "Go get ready. I'll see you there, Dr. Cameron."

* * *

You enter the Hospital via a side entrance nearest the clinic. The normally busy nurses station is empty and you slip into the dark hallway to enter exam room four without being seen by anyone. Once there, you lock the door and strip down to your boxes, just as you've been instructed. Fishing your phone out of your discarded pant pocket, you text your doctor.

'#4 - door locked. txt when u get 2 th clinic door and Ill unlock.'

'k' Is her reply.

The room is a little chilly, which sucks now, sitting alone and nearly naked, but you know that you'll appreciate it later once your 'exam' is in full swing.

You don't have to wait very long before your phone buzzes 'door' and you unlock it, then limp to the edge of the exam bed. Using your arms to help, you hop on the edge of the bed, causing the wax paper covering to crinkle below you as you settle into a comfortable position.

A minute later, Dr. Cameron enters the room, dressed in your favorite of her work outfits, the dark grey slacks that perfectly conform to her ass and thighs leaving little to the imagination and the tight green v-neck sweater which grants you a great view of her cleavage and highlights the green tones in her eyes, which are framed by her black rimmed glasses. She tops the ensemble with her white lab coat. In her hand is a clipboard and she is flipping through the attached chart. As the door swings shut, she locks it behind her, without lifting her eyes from the chart.

"So, um… Dr. House, oh, are you a medical doctor?" She meets your eyes as she questions you. You nod and she returns her eyes to the chart. "Says here it's been ten years since your last routine physical."

Did she pull your actual chart? She's really burying herself in the part. This should be good.

"That sounds about right. It was about a year after the infarction, when I was reconsidering going back to physical therapy. And, you can call me Greg. I mean, you _are_ about to see me naked and fondle my man bits." She looks up with an amused look, you give your eyebrows a waggle.

"Okay, _Greg_ ," she concedes to calling you by your first name, then scolds you "I shouldn't have to tell you, given you _are_ a doctor, the importance of preventive medicine. Ten years is far too long a time between physicals, but you are here now, so just try to keep it in mind going forward."

Placing your chart on the counter, she approaches you and begins the exam, starting with your pulse. Her hand takes your right wrist as she watches the second hand on the wall clock behind you. Meeting your eyes, she informs you "68 very good. Do you have a regular workout routine that includes cardio?"

"Well, I normally workout with resistance machines three times a week and swim on the weekends. But, the last few weeks, I've been distracted from my normal routine. Although, the distraction has included quite a bit of physical activity that one could definitely classify as a cardio workout."

"Good. But you should really make sure to return to your normal workout routine. Between good heart health and your leg, you need to maintain a regular level of exercise."

"But the new exercises are so much more fun." You pout and her eyes sparkle back at yours.

"If you can manage both, all the better. Now let's have a listen to your heart and lungs." She takes the stethoscope, which is hung around her neck, puts the earpieces in her ears then places the diaphragm against your chest. "Take a deep breath. And exhale." Moving it to the other side, she repeats. Then moving to your back, she has you breath twice more.

"Lungs sound good. It says here you are a smoker. What do you smoke and how often?"

"Cigars, mostly. I stopped smoking cigarettes regularly when I was about 39 years old, but I do occasionally pick them back up for short stretches. For instance every time I've ever detoxed from vicodin or when dealing with extreme boredom, or really drunk, but I don't smoke them regularly otherwise. I smoke a cigar maybe once or twice a week, though I haven't smoked anything in a month or so. Poker nights have been on hiatus since my best friend and I started getting a little tail on the side."

"So your sex life is healthy?"

"Very."

She walks back the the counter, as she puts the stethoscope back around her neck, then makes some notes on your chart. A moment later she returns with an otoscope and begins examining your ears. "Things look good here. Any ear problems to report?"

"Nope. I did have a bout of hearing dead people, but that turned out to be all in my brain."

She raises an eyebrow at you and puts the otoscope on the bed beside you, so she can palpate around your face. "Any sinus issues? New allergies or irritations?"

"Nope. Sniffer's been fine." Reaching in her pocket she pulls out a small flashlight "tilt back your head please." She examines inside your nose. "Looks fine." Putting the light back in her pocket, she palpates the glands around your throat. Reaching back to the counter she pulls out a tongue depressor, "Open your mouth and say 'ahh.'" You do, and she proceeds to examine your oral cavity, tongue and throat.

"Things look okay. Of course, there is another test we can do just to make sure. It's kind of out of the norm, but it is really the best way to insure that the tongue is healthy."

"Well, I trust your opinion Dr. Cameron. If you say this test is a good idea, I'm completely open to it."

"Good."

With that, she leans into you and kisses you. She teases your lips with her tongue, and you allow her access to 'examine' you further. She really is a great kisser, and you find it hard to not grab her and break your respective roles, but you resist, keeping your hands, resting on either side of your body, against the examination bed. Little Greg is enjoying this new element to the normally boring physical, and begins to stir.

Breaking away slowly she, pauses for a moment with her eyes closed. Opening them slowly, she smiles. "Your oral cavity and tongue are in excellent condition, Greg." She glances down at your crotch. "And by the looks of it, we have a positive response from your autonomic nervous system. Let's check out your pupillary response next." She pulls her light back out, and tests your pupil response.

She continues with her exam, checking your abdomen and your reflexes. Feeling every inch of your body, first with clinical hands, then with light and sensual touches, returning to the chart every few steps to make notes, until she finally comes to the part you've been anticipating.

"It's time for me to exam your reproductive organs. I'll need you to take off your boxers now and remain standing." You stand and Cameron turns her back to you as you drop your boxers, to fetch the rolling chair. As she turns back toward you, she pauses for a moment to take in the view of your now fully hard manhood. Rolling the chair over, she grabs a set of gloves from the box on the counter, then sits down in front of you with her face now just inches from your throbbing cock.

She puts on the gloves, then her right hand reaches out and takes hold of your shaft. The doctor in you knows this is where play will have to break from reality, because you are far too hard for any sort of real exam. Pretending to be embarrassed by your natural reaction, you begin to apologise. "I'm sorry it's so hard. It just has a mind of it's own sometimes, especially when I am getting examined by a beautiful female physician. If you give me a few minutes, I am sure it will…"

She interrupts you. "Perhaps you haven't read the latest medical texts on the subject, but research suggests that it is far better to examine the penis while fully erect than while flaccid, as was previously believed. So please, don't apologise. This is _exactly_ how I need you for us to proceed."

"I guess I've been remiss in my continuing studies. I'll leave the procedure in your capable hands then, Dr. Cameron."

"Your glands look excellent." She pumps you a few times, which causes you to inhale sharply. "Foreskin glides freely. Excellent as well."

Some precum drips from your head, and she swirls it around the tip with her thumb. "Secretion color looks normal." Then she leans forward and licks the next drops and you moan as her warm tongue licks the tip of your head clean. "Secretion flavor is normal. Again, excellent."

Taking a light hold on your balls, she feels them, more clinically than the way she examined your penis, but because she is doing the work with her mouth so close to your throbbing erection, it continues to feel completely erotic. "I'm not feeling any sort of abnormalities in your testicles. They have a good size and shape."

"I have to say that I am really seeing the benefits of these new techniques." You tease.

"They are _far_ superior." She continues, maintaining her perfectly professional composure. "This next part is especially helpful. I'm going to need to put the full length of your penis in my mouth. I know it sounds a little radical, but I assure you, it is a necessary step to measure the responses of your parasympathetic nervous system."

"Please proceed, Dr. Cameron."

With your approval, she takes you fully into her welcoming and warm mouth. She moves slowly, taking you deeply into her throat, nearly triggering her gag reflex, before slowly moving back. She wraps a gloved hand around the base of your shaft and starts pumping a steady rhythm with both it and her mouth. You start to groan uncontrollably, and you are no longer able to keep your hands from tangling themselves in her hair.

"FUCK... Dr. Cameron... Mmm… I'm going to come if you keep doing that." You manage to say, and she pulls back from you then.

"Very good, Greg. Everything seems to be working perfectly." Breathing heavily, you look down at her face. Her expression is so professional, despite her swollen lips and tousled hair. Her eyes, however, give it all away, with the playful and lustful way she looks at you. Eye sex. She is a master of it.

"Now, I know this next part is uncomfortable for most men, but I want you to know that I will be very gentle. You should know, there have been some updates to the way the prostate exam works as well, but please trust me when I tell you that these new techniques have gone a long way to make a normally uncomfortable process, rather enjoyable."

"I'm intrigued to say the least, Dr. Cameron. What do you need me to do?"

"First, please do whatever you need to do to maintain your erection. Please don't feel embarrassed to touch or stroke yourself. I need to prepare the instruments, so you may need some self-stimulation while you wait. Please don't be nervous or self conscious; remember I'm a doctor and these are perfectly normal, healthy, biologically necessary actions. I can provide you with lubrication if you need it."

"I think I have enough of my own lubrication, but I'll let you know if that changes. Thank you Dr. Cameron." With that, you start rubbing your thumb over your head and slowly gather your precum until your have enough to cover your hand and can begin pumping the length of your shaft in earnest.

"Yes. That's exactly what I need you to do." She says, eyes fixed on your hand as it slides up and down your long, thick cock. Turning somewhat reluctantly from your show, she goes back to the counter and pulls a package from her lab coat. It's the green anal beads. Your heart races just a bit faster at the sight of them, the anticipation of her finally using them on you building, giving your whole abdomen a warm tingle.

 _'************'_

She roots around in the drawers of the cabinet for a moment pulling out a couple of sterile cloths, a tube of lube and some alcohol. She opens one of the cloths and grabs the lube, walks back toward you, spreads the cloth open beside you on the bed and lays the tube on top of it. Returning to the counter, she opens the package of beads and lays them down, then opens the second package of sterile cloth and douses it with the alcohol. She then proceeds to clean the string of six beads very thoroughly.

The beads start small, perhaps the size of a marble. Each new ball in the chain just slightly larger than the last, stopping around the size of a gum ball, like the ones you can get for a quarter in the candy machine at the supermarket. They are connected by a flexible shaft and end with a large ring which is used to pull the beads back out after insertion.

She approaches you again and lays the beads on the cloth beside the lube. Then looks into your eyes. You're both a little nervous, now that the moment is at hand, and sensing it, she flashes you a questioning look, which you respond to with a simple nod of your head.

"I need you to turn around and face the bed now, Greg. Lean over it slightly. Please continue to maintain your erection." You do as she asks, placing your right hand on the bed and shifting your weight between it and your left leg as and resume stroking yourself with your left hand. She picks up the lube, opens it and applies a generous amount to her index finger. "If at any point, you feel uncomfortable or you want me to stop, all you need to do is tell me. I'll make sure to go slowly and let you relax at each step. I'm going to start by inserting my finger into your rectum to exam and stimulate your prostate."

Standing behind you she places her left hand on your left butt cheek and spreads you open slightly as her right index finger finds your sphincter and begins to slowly circle it. The lubrication is a little cold at first but warms up quickly as she works. The sensation of her stroking your opening while you stroke your cock is starting to send hot waves of pleasure through your core.

"Okay, now relax. I'm going to slide my finger inside you now."

You relax the muscles around your anus and she pushes her finger in slowly. She stops for a moment once fully inside you, then bends her finger forward toward the front of your rectum to land on your prostate. Once she finds her target, she begins to massage it slowly and you think you might come right there as a guttural moan escapes from deep inside you. "Oh, god... doctor." Stopping your ministrations, your left hand joins the right on the bed as you lean more weight forward onto your arms.

"Is this okay, Greg? Do you want me to stop?" She asks, though she knows your moans are those of pleasure and not of pain.

"Noo... Please, continue... Soo good." You whimper, completely in her control.

"I see you no longer need self stimulation to maintain your erection. A promising sign." She begins to move her finger in and out of you now. Fucking your ass with it. "I need you to continue to relax. We need to make sure you are open enough for the next phase of the exam, so I'm going to need to stretch you a little more."

All you can do is nod your head yes, as the sensation of being fingered by your doctor and girlfriend washes over you. You feel her add a second finger. She repeats her earlier technique, pushing them fully in slowly, pausing before stroking your prostate again.

It's never been this good before. You're a progressive man, and have engaged in anal play before, but Allison's professional knowledge of male anatomy is being put to use fully as she expertly fondles your prostate from the inside. She starts fucking you again with her fingers, slowly twisting them this time, as she moves in and out. You can feel that you've relaxed completely and she adds a third finger and continues fucking you as she does. It causes you to cry out with pleasure. "Oh god, I might come from your fucking me with your fingers."

She slows her pace and then pulls out, leaving you on the edge and breathing hard.

She leans into your ear, and breaks her role to whisper "I knew you'd like getting fucked in the ass."

It shocks you and turns you on equally to hear her speak that lewdly to you and to know she is getting off on doing such a fantastically dirty thing to you.

Getting back in her role, she continues. "Your prostate feels healthy. No swelling or unusual lumps. I'd say your response to stimulation is better than average. I think it is time for the last phase of your exam. I am going to lubricate these" she picks up the beads to show to you "and insert them one by one into your rectum. Once they are fully in, I am going to reach around you and stimulate your penis again with my hand. When you are close to ejaculation, inform me. At that point, I will slowly pull the beads from your rectum, and stroke you to ejaculation. This will help me gauge the response of your sympathetic nervous system."

Fuck. Why have you never dated a doctor before? It is so incredibly hot to be fucked by both sides of the woman you love. The young professional and caring doctor and the prick tease of a girlfriend, wrapped up together and ready to give you what might be the orgasm of your life.

"I'm ready, Dr. Cameron."

She takes a moment to lube up the beads. Once satisfied, she steps behind you again and begins pushing them in slowly, one at a time. It is a curiously erotic sensation.

Once they are planted, she takes off her gloves and tosses them in the trash, then grabs a clean pair and puts them on. Returning to the bed, she squeezes a generous amount of lube into her right hand and faces your right side. She reaches in front of you and takes your cock in her hand and begins to slowly stroke it. "Remember, Greg, I need to know when you are close to your climax."

"Mmm, okay... goddamn, that is good. Fuck Cameron!" You are so rock hard in her small hand and you feel your balls start to tighten as she strokes you.

"Is this how you like it? Or maybe you like it hard and fast?" She picks up her speed and starts beating you fast and hard.

"I'm close…" you howl lowly and you feel her left hand reach behind you as she takes hold of the ring at the end of the string of beads. She starts pulling them out one by one and on the third you tip over the edge in a powerful and overwhelming climax. The whole room goes white for a moment as your body convulses and your chest is sprayed by your hot come. She continues to pull the final beads out slowly as your orgasm winds down, each adding a pleasant aftershock to the wave of euphoria.

 _'************'_

Still leaning over the bed, you pant heavily. She releases you and cleans off the bed. Once it's clear you fall forward onto it and roll yourself onto it to lie on your back, covering your eyes with the crook of your elbow, a wide grin plastered to your face. In your wildest dreams, you wouldn't have bet five bucks that grandma's teddybear was this salacious. Mind equals blown.

You can hear her washing up, cleaning her instruments on the counter. A few moments later, you hear her approach the bed and uncover your eyes as she leans down to capture your mouth in a kiss. Then she hands you a warm, wet cloth. "Here. You need to clean yourself up. The tests were a little messy."

"So what's the verdict, Dr. Cameron? Do all of my systems check out?" You ask, as you sit up and wipe the ejaculate from your chest and stomach and then the excess lubrication from your penis.

"Oh yes. You may just have the finest reproductive system I've ever examined."


	21. A Future With a House

Chapter 21: A Future With a House

Allison sits beside you on the left side of the couch, legs curled up behind her ass, as she leans against the armrest, engrossed in _Julie and Julia_. A finger in her right hand, twirls a lock of her loose and messy blonde hair. She's opted to be lazy thus far today and hasn't put on normal clothes, choosing instead to wear a pair of your blue boxers as shorts and your 'The Who' tee, which engulfs her making her frame looks even smaller. Smooth toned legs beg you to caress them. Turning a page, she shifts slightly in her seat, and drops her right hand from the page to hold her ankle. Her lips purse as she reads, mind engrossed in the text.

From the corner of your eye you watch her as you play _Assassin's Creed_ half heartedly, in an attempt to hide your excitement about your plan. Your first appointment for a home showing is at 11:00, so you need to get moving soon. Pausing play, you run your fingers lightly over her leg from the front of her knee, down her shin, then over her fingers and up her arm to the elbow and back again. She breaths in deeply and exhales a sigh. A smirk plays across her lips as she continues to read.

After tracing the path a few more times, you lean over and kiss her shoulder, then bite it gently. From your new vantage point you can see she is nearing the end of the chapter, so you continue upward to her neck grazing it with your beard as your lips trace, feather light, across her creamy flesh.

A second later she closes the book and tucks it between her and the couch arm, closes her eyes and takes off her glasses, then rolls her head back and to the left to grant you better access.

"I have a surprise for you."You whisper in her ear. "Keep your eyes closed. I have to run outside and get something. No peeking or I'll have to punish you later." You say as the hand you have on her leg travels up her thigh and circles over it stopping just shy of the apex of her legs.

"Mmm. You're making me _want_ to peek, you know." She sighs. And you smile against her neck.

"Just keep 'em closed little girl, and don't spoil the surprise."

You leave her then and she sits up in a normal position, swinging her legs in front of the couch, and places her hands folded in her lap, keeping her eyes closed the whole time.

Satisfied, you exit the apartment, retrieve the gift and return to sit beside her.

"Okay. Hold your hands out in front of you, palms up."

She obeys and you place the shiny red helmet in her hands. She feels it without opening her eyes, and as she runs her hands over it her smile broadens. "Okay, you can look." You say, smiling just as widely.

"Oh, Greg, I love it! It's so shiny and red! I love red." Still grinning ear to ear, she puts it on her head, and snaps the strap under her chin, then flips the visor down and back up. "How do I look?"

"A little like the Red Power Ranger." You answer with a lopsided smirk.

"So you have a fetish you haven't told me about? Because I am _totally_ willing to wear this naked." And with that she moves across the couch and swings her leg over you to straddle your lap and grinds against you provocatively.

You grab her ass with both hands and tell her "I didn't before, but I think I do now." then thrust against her playfully, before pushing her up and nudging her to sit back on the couch. "Hold that thought. There is more to the surprise and we are on a schedule. Go get dressed in something comfortable. We're taking a ride on the bike. Wear that black leather jacket you have."

With your order, still beaming from your playful surprise, and now, because of your secret road trip, she gets up and heads back to the bedroom to change, still wearing the helmet. You wait for her in the living room, because you know if you don't, you'll toss her on the bed, strip her (except for the helmet) and give her that fuck she wanted.

"Later, Little Greg. I promise." You sigh, willing your half hard dick back down. You grab the PS3 controller and turn off the console, then grab the TV remote and turn off the set.

You had spent your evening on your macbook looking at homes and setting up appointments with Bonnie, while Allison was busy with laundry and some other random house work. She didn't seem to be curious about your activities, but you made sure to keep a window of facebook and youtube in the background, so you could hide your true actions whenever she was in eyeshot of your screen.

Also, under Bonnie's advisement, you had plugged in both your incomes and a rough guess of your combined financials on a banking website, to get an estimate of the price range of home you can afford. Together, two doctors can buy a whole lotta house.

There are four places that you want to look at today. Two have open houses later in the afternoon, the other two, Bonnie will meet you to walk you through. All four places have at least four bedrooms and at least three baths (with at least one walk in shower and at least one large tub), a separate den and living area (so you can finally have a proper music room, away from your TV) and a recently renovated kitchen. Other than that, you don't have a ton of features you know you want at this point. You also don't really have any idea what Allison has in mind beyond her conversation with Wilson over lunch. All of the homes you plan on seeing today are single family houses, though you bookmarked a few condos and townhomes you like. It seemed like a good idea to start there, and see how it goes. If she or you hate them, you'll at least have the topic open and you can start looking together.

Hopefully.

There is still always the chance she isn't ready to sign a mortgage with you.

One detail at a time.

Ten minutes later you are walking out of the apartment with your smokin' hot biker babe as she puts her new helmet back on. You attach your cane, grab your own helmet, don it, mount the bike and scoot forward to make more room for Allison to climb on behind you. She has only ridden with you once, and that was back when you were still trying to steal back Stacy. She had been hesitant to hold to your body then, after you had made your lack of interest in any romantic relationship with her painfully clear. But now, she wastes no time molding her front to your back and tightly encircling your torso with her arms. It causes you to think back for a moment to what she did to you yesterday.

With a smile, you start the engine and take off from the lot, a little more carefully than you normally do alone, but with enough of a surge that she squeezes her legs around you tighter. God, you love having a woman behind you on your bike.

The first home on your list is the furthest away and is a little off the beaten path. Once out of town, there is a ten minute drive on a moderately curvy two lane state highway that you would enjoy getting to take to work when you ride your bike in. But it isn't so far out that the commute would be a complete pain in the ass. Of the homes on the list, this one might be your favorite, at least based on the images that you viewed from realtor's web site.

It is a departure from your normal style, a mid-century modern home that reminds you of something akin to Frank Lloyd Wright's style. It is one floor with a partial basement and is built on a wooded three acres lot. The front of the home is constructed in white block and dark wood with a privacy fence, making the place seem sort of plain but mysterious, however beyond the fence lay a big home full of rich wood tones and large uncovered windows on nearly every external wall. The home was built in four sections forming a square around a small open air atrium. The walls that flank it are floor to ceiling glass, highlighted with darkly stained solid wood panels. Two of the four walls surrounding the atrium have sliding doors to access the area.

It has a large modern kitchen, with maple cabinetry and granite counters. The great room features a beautiful arched open beam ceiling over a large open area you hope to split between a dining area and music parlor, and more windows and light everywhere. It's the kind of home you think of a happy person like Allison in.

The master bath has had a recent renovation and includes a whirlpool soaker tub, just behind a glass walk in shower. You'll be able to lay back in the bath and watch her take a shower. Oh, the possibilities with that.

There is a big and private back yard with nothing but trees on three sides of it, and a tall fence on the one side with a neighboring home. Going solely off the pictures, you are hoping for a yard you can have lots of sex in without worrying about the prying eyes of your neighbors. And to top it all off, there is a big pool and a huge deck. You could throw one helluva party in this home.

As you pull into the drive, you see that Bonnie has already arrived and is standing at the front door smiling and waving as you pull up.

When the engine cuts, you feel Allison loosen her grip, and dismount. You take off your helmet, and watch her do the same, hoping to get a reaction of some kind. "So, are we looking at houses?" She asks, with a pleasant, but confused grin.

"Yep. I called Bonnie up last night and then looked at some places and she set up a few showings for us." She takes a step to you and leans down and kisses you gently on the lips. Your answer is yes then. A wave of relief washes over you, though you know there are still many levels of this whole home buying thing to iron out. Like the part where you are buying it together as opposed to you just wanting to be a supportive boyfriend who is helping his girl pick out a home, that he'll likely live in, but not be on the deed.

"Hey guys! Glad you called me back." Bonnie walks over to you and extends a hand to Allison. "You must be Allison! I'm Bonnie, James's ex. I had no idea you were also House's girlfriend until he called me yesterday. To be honest, I'm still half convinced this is all a prank now, but hey, if there is a chance to make a sale."

"Nope, no prank, and I'm not even a prostitute." Allison winks at you and you pretend to scowl, but you are sure the twinkle in your eyes gives you away.

This comment earns a hearty snort of a laugh from Bonnie, as she turns to lead you back to the front door of the home. Allison hands you her helmet and she follows. You hang each helmet from opposite handlebars, dismount your bike, grab your cane and follow them to the door.

Catching up to them you find Bonnie struggling with the lock box around the door handle. "These older models are a real pain in the ass." She apologizes as she struggles with the box more, but to no avail. After a few moments, Allison shoots you a devious grin and places her hand on Bonnie's arm.

"Here, let me." She says, then pulls a small black case out of her jacket's breast pocket. Opening it, she pulls out her lock picking tools and in less than fifteen seconds has the front door open, to the shock of Bonnie. Winking back to you she adds, indicating the tools, as she puts them back in her jacket "I never leave home without them."

"Did I mention she used to be on my team?" You offer as a way of explanation, as you walk past Bonnie to follow Allison in.

"That was certainly impressive. I never got to see your skills in action. Are you really sure you don't want to come back to the team? I hear Thirteen sometimes takes the breaking part of breaking in a little too literally."

Just past and to the right of the small foyer you enter the great room, which is staged with one half as a dining room, with a set of shelves creating a makeshift divide between it, and a formal seating area, complete with a baby grand piano. You have to admit, seeing their setup has you thinking a very similar thing, only you are thinking less couches and chairs and more instruments. There is a fireplace on the far wall next to the piano, which you want to put a soft rug in front of so you can have lots of sex there with Allison, surrounded by your instruments, next to a hot fire matching the one in your loins.

"This place is enormous, Greg. How much is it?" Allison's comment snaps you back to reality.

"$1,280,000" Bonnie answers for you. "But I think you can get them down eighty or ninety grand. The owner is moving soon and really needs to sell quickly. That's going to be hard for him with the market still being slow."

"This is beautiful Greg, but I can't afford this."

"No, _you_ can't… but _we_ can." She looks at you with wide eyes, confirmation of what she had suspected slowly revealing itself in her expression as you continue.

"This place was my favorite just going by the pictures online." You feel yourself getting excited telling her about it, and you start going on like a kid who wants to convince his mom to buy him a new toy. "So, I love the idea of keeping this kinda like it is, only this would be a dedicated music room. I could put my piano in the same place and, since there is less hanging space on the walls because of all of the windows, I'd just get floor stands for the guitars, and maybe we could actually buy that drumset for you and we could have some jam sessions.

"And the kitchen in this place is bad ass. I think it is through here." You grab her hand and lead a smiling Allison through an archway into another open area, where the kitchen and family room are found. The kitchen has sleek and modern maple cabinetry with light brown granite counter tops. Oak hardwood flooring is laid on the forty-five and the cabinets flanked by the sink area and the family room have extended counter tops that double as bar seating. Windows over the sink look out to the side yard.

The family room is cozy, with a floor to ceiling bay window looking out to the side yard as well and the deck. The ceilings are a rich medium stained wood, joined tongue and groove with exposed white beams. The wood floor here is laid in a parkay pattern, which matches the other rooms in the home. They have it staged with the TV opposite the kitchen, a couple of lounge chairs on the wall opposite the window, and a sectional facing the TV.

Again, you love their layout. Your furniture would look great here. Maybe with Allison's side chair.

"So I like this staying a family room, like they have it. That way the TV is in here, away from the music room, and we can watch it from the kitchen while we cook or do dishes or make out." You tease her, while she looks at you, still a little shell shocked. "This thing is massive, and all new stainless appliances and a gas stove. This beats the hell out of your sorry ass apartment." You continue in a french accent, and elaborate circular hand gestures "I'm an artist after all, and I need the right environment to inspire my creations."

Bonnie, who isn't lost on the surprise you've just dropped on Allison, excuses herself. "You know, how about I let the two of you just wonder around and take the whole place in? I'll just hang out in my car and make some phone calls and you can text me when you're done and, if you really like it, we can discuss more of the details. Take your time, our next showing is after lunch, at one, so you have at least an hour if you need it." And with that she turns and leaves the two of you alone.

"Wow." Allison says finally, once Bonnie is out of the house and turns to lean against the bar cabinet, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you sure about this? I mean, I assumed you'd stay with me most of the time whenever I bought a place, and eventually, if things keep going well, we could make the place officially ours, but are you really ready to sell your place and buy a house with someone you've been dating a grand total of nineteen days?"

Raising a hand, you rub your eyebrows, she needs a little convincing. "Allison, we've known each other for six years. You've seen me at my worst, and still want to be with me. I don't doubt I'll fuck things up at some point, but I think you'll find a way to help me work through it." Stepping to her you tug her arm and she leans into your embrace. " You're always the one who stands with me when no one else will. Look, you don't have to make a decision today, or even this month or the next, I just wanted you to know this is an option, if you want it." You kiss her gently and tug her hand again. "Now come on, I want to show you all of the great places we could have sex in this place!" A wink and a wiggle of the eyebrows gets a smile from her, and she starts to allow herself to get caught up in the excitement again.

Heading back out to the great room you head for the sliding glass doors that lead to the deck and backyard. It is just as amazing as you hoped it would be. The huge deck wraps around two sides of the house, giving tons of room for tables and lounge chairs. The yard is epic, and extends back as big as a football field to the tree line. There are no neighboring homes in view from this side of the home. Just grass and trees. You know from looking at a map that, beyond the trees, is a brook that runs on the property line.

After taking a moment to take the view in Allison sighs. "We'll have to hire someone to mow this for sure. But it is absolutely breathtaking."

"Yeah and think about all of the amazing sex we can have out here. It's completely private. And there is a pool over there. So I could cancel the gym membership in the summer at least. And again, sex. We could have naked picnic lunches in the summer and naked breakfast in the kitchen in the winter, and um… sex. In fact, with all the windows in this place, I wouldn't mind us just staying naked all of the time."

You walk back into the greatroom and she runs a finger across the piano as she walks towards the hallway to the bedrooms. "It _is_ tempting. I could sit on the piano and you could suck and lick me off while you play, then lay me down in front of the fireplace and fuck me slow and deep."

"I knew I could count on you to see the big picture." You tease her, as you amble behind her taking in the sway of her lovely butt again.

She comes to the study first. One wall is covered with a floor to ceiling built in bookshelf, so more than enough room for both your collections of medical texts and other books. "I think my couch could go in here, since yours is nicer. And I have a really nice desk in storage. We can fit two desks in here. One opposite the shelves, the other in front of the window." Her eyes are sparkling now as she imagines your combined belongings in the room. She's embraced the idea and is starting to see you there.

It's not terribly surprising that the girl who married a man she knew was dying has an impulsive streak. She's like you in that way. If she believes in something, she acts. And she believes in the two of you and her optimism is rubbing off on you.

You look around each of the smaller bedrooms and baths, as you work your way down the hall. Nothing super amazing about them, but all the bathrooms have had a major renovation within the last ten years or less. The wall opposite the bedrooms is all glass and looks out on to the atrium. Before taking in the master bedroom, she opens the sliding door and steps out on the stone patio. There is a small tree in one corner with a bench underneath and she sits down there and takes in the small water feature across from it.

You sit beside her and take her hand again. "So, no need to tell you, because I am sure you've noticed, but we could have so much great sex here." She looks up at you, with a fake scowl and you give her a wink, before getting back up and heading to the master suite.

"Four bedrooms." She asks you as she steps just in front of you at the door of the master. "That's a lot for two people."

"Well, I figure the one that's just smaller than the master, will be a good workout room with your treadmill, and I have a Total Gym and some free weights in the office of my apartment as well. The other two can be guest bedrooms for now. I'm sure when Gabe and his family come visit they'll enjoy not having to camp out in the living room." Wrapping an arm around her, you place a hand firmly on her stomach and whisper through her hair "And in a year or two, who knows, maybe we'll find another use for it."

She puts her hand over yours and intertwines her fingers with yours, and you gently nudge her into the room then turn her toward you. She looks up to you with misty eyes as you take her cheek in your hand and kiss her softly.

"It's finally Sunday, you know. And, conveniently there is a big ass bed in this bedroom, and we have…" you look at your watch and back at her with a feisty grin "thirty minutes before Bonnie sends in a search party. You know, all the home buying forums suggest that one should never buy a home without having sex in it first."

"Really?" She takes hold of either side of the front of your jacket. "I seem to have missed that bit of advice during my research."

"Oh, it is essential." You nod your head enthusiastically.

With that she is on you like a cat in heat, pushing you around and back to sit on the bed, causing you to drop your cane. She climbs on top of you, pushing off your leather jacket, and kissing you aggressively. You can barely stay sitting up, between her attempts to rid you of it, and her pressing her mouth to yours. Once finally free, she grabs the tail of your tee and pulls it swiftly over your head and, as soon as it is tossed aside, she shrugs off her own coat and you help her pull her shirt over her head and into the floor. Her bra clasps in front, and you open it with your mouth, getting an impressed look from the beauty atop your lap, as your hands slide the material from her shoulders and your mouth turns its focus to her left breast.

You suck it as if your life depends on it. She pulls your head in, trapping you for a moment against the delicious mound. You'd like to make her come this way, but not today, because today you need to be inside of her, and soon.

"OOOHH, damn Greg… that's it… suck my tit, baby!" Continuing your efforts, you respond with a hum, and she begins to slowly gyrate her hips.

Hands lower to unfasten her pants, and you mumble against her flesh "Get up and take your fucking pants off. I want inside you now."

Standing she wastes no time kicking off her shoes and dropping her jeans and underwear to the floor. Yours slide off just as quickly and she's back on top of you in seconds, cock in hand, guiding you into her hot, slick entrance. "Fuck! Allison… so tight." Then she's riding you with reckless abandon. Leaning back on your elbows, you look up at her and take it all in.

"God, I've missed this! Your cock's amazing. Feels sooo… soo… fucking… good… fuck Greg!"

Your eyes focus on where your bodies meet, and you watch your hard length disappear inside her over and over again in an hypnotic rhythm. Pausing for a moment to leveraging herself on your shoulders, she slides her legs up to squat over you on the balls of her feet. Once balanced, she pumps your long shaft with long, fast, athletic strokes taking your full length in and out, again and again, continuing to moan and cry dirty little words of encouragement to you and your prick. It's too good, way too fucking good, you're going to come.

"I'm going to come if you keep that up. You close?" With your panting confession, she takes one hand from your shoulder and attacks her clit with vigor and the sight drives you over the edge. "Ooohh, yeah! I love coming inside your tight little pussy." You growl as you close your eyes, collapse fully back against the bed and spurt your hot seed deep inside her.

She doesn't stop after your climax and you have to grab her and pull her hips hard against you, stilling her to lessen the intensity of the friction against your overly sensitive flesh.

She grinds against your hold, still stroking her clit feverishly. Damn it's fucking beautiful seeing her on the edge of climax! You push her hand away to replace it with your own stroking her just as aggressively until she screams your name and comes all over you and your throbbing dick.

A moment later, running awkwardly to the master bath, Allison gets cleaned up and joins you back in the room to get redressed, giving you blushing and sly grins the whole time.

You pop your heads in the two car garage and the partial basement just before you exit the home and find both to be clean and functional. Once back outside, you peck on Bonnie's window to get her attention from her paperwork. She looks up and smiles at you and gets out of the car.

"So... what do you think? You like it?" She asks looking at Allison.

"We do! I think we'd like to review the paperwork and get more details. I'm starving. All of that… looking around, worked up my appetite. We should go get lunch and go over more of the details there." She answers and you nod in agreement, then the three of you head back into town for lunch.

* * *

After lunch you visit two more homes. One privately, the other in an open house. You both agree that house two and house three aren't going to make the cut. They weren't bad, but the first house was far superior and more updated. Not to mention, you now have a real fondness for the master bedroom.

Finishing both homes early, you head over to the fourth and last on the tour. It's an open house today, so no appointment was needed. This one is a close second, in your mind, to house number one, going solely from the realtor's site. The colonial traditional style home is two and a half stories, has a huge finished basement, and an elevator. The yard is much smaller with no grass to mow, instead the home is nestled inside a cottage style garden with supposedly low maintenance plantings.

The home has an old world charm to it, but is actually only three years old. So everything is new. The rich neutral colors colors and moldings remind you of your apartment. You do really like that classic style. The hardwood flooring is a rich Brazilian cherry wood, the five bathrooms are all full and most feature a shower or a duel shower/tub, but again the master bath has both a deep soaker tub and a separate walk-in shower.

The biggest down side you see to the place is it is too close to the neighboring homes. Though there is fencing around the yard, the multi-story homes around it prevent it from truly being private, so no patio sex here. The pluses are it is closer to downtown Princeton and work and you'll have to spend far less on yard maintenance, but the home is more expensive, so that would likely balance out anyway.

Maybe one of your former escorts doubles in yard service and would cut you a deal. It's worth an ask anyway. Maybe Allison would trade you eye candy for eye candy and you can find her a hot, though maybe gay, pool boy. Speaking of pools, this home doesn't have one, so no giving up your gym membership just yet. Not that any of these things is a big deal breaker for you, but they do give house one a leg up for you, at least on paper.

The doors are open when you arrive at house four and two other couples are wandering around the home along with the seller's realtor. Snacks are laid out in the kitchen with coffee, beer and wine and there is even a signup sheet for a door prize (aka sneaky way for the other realtor to collect your email sheet). Nether of you fall for this trap.

The home has a solid floor plan. The family room could make a great music room and would be a little more private than the first home. The elevator makes easy work of getting to the five second floor bedrooms, the study is on the third half floor, which does require climbing a flight of stairs, which you can handle, but you are not convinced you like the office and your books being so far removed from the other living areas, given the both of you are addicted to your work.

Bonnie points out that you could adapt it and make that the workout room, but you don't envy the movers trying to get her treadmill up the small elevator and the stairs, but you suppose they'd find a way. Then maybe you could make a bedroom or one of the massive basement rooms into a study.

But in a lot of ways this home seems to tip over the edge of your desired features into excessive. The full sized, fully finished basement has a theater, a recreation room, a utility room and a shop. Maybe if you wanted a huge family, but at this stage in the game you think two kids is probably a good number. You hated being an only child, but you can barely imagine yourself being a father at all, so that seems like the logical numbers are either zero or two. And if kids are in your future now, you'd rather them have a big yard like house one so they can get outside rather than this alternative of maximum indoor entertainment with no real outdoor play space.

You have no idea how you are going to express these thoughts to Allison, who is already taken aback by the sudden jump from unofficially living together for a few weeks to buying a home together. But you are you, and the dial is now on eleven. It doesn't make any sense not to plan fully for the contingency of being together for the long haul. You aren't keen on change, so when you do change, you do it big so you don't have to deal with it again for as long as possible. You're not the type of guy who gets a starter home only to upsize every five or ten years. You've had too much picking up and moving in your life. If it works, this should be your home for the long haul. If not, you are stuck moving anyway, so why not just jump in with both feet?

Allison leads the way through the home, making little comments here and there about things she likes, like the huge walk-in closets and the sauna in the basement. But the proximity to so many other potential buyers has you both more quiet. You suppose you'll talk to her at home about it all, but, unless you've completely lost your super powers of observation, you are betting she is on the same page as you. God, you hope so. The more you think about the first home, the more you want it to be your first home with her, maybe even your last home.

* * *

After several hours of home tours, you bid goodbye to Bonnie with the promise you'll email in the next couple of days. House four is close to town, so you get back to the apartment quickly and, once through the doors, you take Allison by the hand and start leading her down the hall. "My leg is starting to ache. Let's take a bath."

You get no argument from her, as she follows you. "I'll start the bath, you go ahead and get naked, I'll join you in a minute." she says as she turns into the bathroom and you head on to the bedroom to disrobe.

Stilling on the edge of the bed you open the nightstand and take out the Motrin and take three dry before putting it back and kicking off your shoes. From the other room, you hear her call to you "Hey, you want bubbles or one of those fizzy bath bombs or both or just water?"

"What will make me smell less like a girl?" You yell back as you take off your shirt and toss it across the room into the hamper for three points.

"Um, I think this bath bomb is kind of bi-sexual."

"That sounds kinky. I like it." You lift your ass and pull off your jeans then kick them the rest of the way off, using your arm to help pull out your bad leg. Then you take a moment to rub down the aching limb. The pain is manageable, but it still sucks. Hopefully you'll soak it away soon while cuddled up with your girl. She'll probably even give you a massage afterward if you need it. Hell, maybe she'll give you a total body rubdown. Maybe you'll give her one too. It feels like you haven't really gotten to touch her naked in forever, despite the quickie today at house one. You miss taking your time with her, licking her body, tasting her pussy. God, you really want to have her sit on your face. Luckily you have plenty of time after the bath.

She joins you in the room and looks you over appreciatively then begins to disrobe herself. Her body is so perfect and so very sexy. Once all her flesh is revealed, you push off the bed wishing you didn't have to limp as you walk over to her and pull her body against your. Flesh on flesh feels so satisfying. Taking her hand, you lead the way to the bath.

You step into the tub first, sitting down carefully as Allison takes a moment to put up her hair. The water is near scalding, just like you like it, though sometimes your balls protest a little. Once you are settled she climbs in, far more agilely, and positions herself between your legs and lies back against your chest. The bath bomb is still fizzing in the front of the tub, turning the water a blue-green as it dissolves. It smells like a sort of spice mix and, as Allison so aptly put it, was pretty much a 'bi-sexual' scent.

"So these bath bombs are cool. Where'd you get them from?"

"Oh, I must have gotten like twenty from random patients around Christmas. They seem to be the latest rage in acquaintance gift giving. I saw them at Macy's the other day, they had this huge display of maybe thirty different kinds. They're all organic too, I guess."

"Yeah, well we wouldn't want chemical burns on our fun bits, now would we?"

Giggling at this, she lays her head back against your right shoulder, relaxing completely against you. Kissing her cheek you ask her "So what did you think about the houses?"

"Mmm… well I think that we both agree that two and three are out. House four was really nice. I liked the layout, but I agree with you that the office being on the third floor isn't that great. The closets are amazing, which with your tennis shoe collection would come in handy. It's pretty new, so not as much of a chance the wiring and plumbing aren't up to code. It's also pretty close to town, which is nice. But it is really close to the neighbors and I think I'd like having a little grass in the yard, even though the landscaping was pretty amazing. It's also way too much house, unless you completely throw me a curve and admit to wanting to breed a small army."

This comment makes you smile. "You shouldn't be surprised that I have plans for world domination, I was thinking cloning, but recently I've been thinking the traditional methods are far more fun."

She laughs lightly. "Yeah, and I prefer your penis to a turkey baster as well. So, we're a little behind, but if we start soon we could squeeze in a dozen or so before you have to revisit plan A. We'd have to get a nanny, maybe one of your prostitutes is nearing retirement age, what is that these days? Thirty-five or so? At least until I retire, which is a long way off, but by then you could have that big basement remodeled into a proper mad scientist lab and be well on your way to growing the rest of your army in pods."

That's quite a scenario she's outlined for you. "Mmm. As much fun as all of that sounds. I was really thinking more along the lines of two kids. Maybe a dog or a cat or both."

"Ha! Com'on. You are Gregory House. You have to get all of that superior DNA out into the world!"

"Quality over quantity. Two kids, close together, so I'm not a million years old when the youngest goes to college." You state seriously and matter of factly.

Sitting up a little, she twist her upper body to look back at you awkwardly. "You're being serious." She states, seemly shocked. Figures. Even she doesn't see you as a father. Why the hell are you surprised? Oh, you had let yourself build up a nice little delusion that she'd just toss her birth control in the trash at first talk of family and start demanding baby making sex from you.

You're fucking pathetic and delusional.

She's not going to trust you to father her children after three weeks of a semi-normal relationship. Not that you were looking to start tonight or anything, maybe a year down the road. How the hell do normal people talk about this shit anyways?

Your eyes must betray you, because hers soften somewhat. "Greg. This topic isn't something I am willing to be a lab rat on. If you are bringing up family now to test me or fuck with me to place some little puzzle piece about me, just don't. I do want a family. But I've had the idea yanked away from me too many times. I can't handle sitting around planning our little, or big, family only to have you yank it away from me again a year from now when you finally admit you weren't really serious. I mean, I'd be ok if it was just the two of us. Really. But please don't send me down the path of kids and puppies if this is just a joke or some kind of experiment to gage my reaction."

There is no anger in her words. If anything, fear, hurt. You hadn't really thought about it that way or considered the idea that she might have started to see her future differently than the young woman you caught crying over dying babies. She's right; it is totally like you to do something like that. Test her. Take her down a path in hopes she'll see the path isn't what she really wanted in the first place. You can't be angry she'd think you'd do that, because you would if you thought you should.

The problem is you're serious.

"I'm not joking. This isn't a test." You state to her and gently tug at her to lie against you again. Giving in, she turns back against you and you put your arms around her tightly.

She continues, "Please do me a favor. Just spend some more time really thinking about this. You're being impulsive, because that is what you do. I love that about you. I'm just as bad most of the time. I mean, living together, buying a house it's fast, but that's our track record with relationships that are working for us, and I am fine with it. If we work, then we are good going forward, and if we don't we'd be stuck moving anyway. So why the hell not? But we _can't_ just walk away if we have kids. That is permanent and I don't want to fuck that up."

All the time you had been hung up on Cuddy, you had known the score on kids, so there wasn't any mental debate or fear on how to broach the subject. There wasn't going to be any of your children, at least biologically, so that part was easy. She had her one kid, most likely her only kid, and you and said kid would have had to figure it out the same way you would have had to figure out everything else about a relationship with your boss. You could see yourself there. Problem was, she couldn't see _you_ fitting into her neat little suburban universe, so she took the safer path with Lucas.

But now, having taken the chance on Allison, that door suddenly swung wide open again. It's funny. Like the mental preparation you did to see yourself being a father for Rachel, turned something on and now that you are with someone young enough to give you children of your own, ones who you not only would learn to love, but you would also have a biological connection to… well, it just seems like it's now or never somehow.

So just tell her.

"I'm not asking you to toss your birth control in the trash tonight or anything. I'm not testing you or teasing you or trying to figure something out. It's just, I know you want kids; you kept your dead husband's sperm; you planned on having kids with Chase. I… I just wanted you to know that, despite the fact I don't gush over babies and little kids like most people, I haven't ruled out the idea of having a family, especially now that I'm with someone young enough to still make that happen."

Kissing her temple you continue, somewhat sad and dejected.

"Look, I know that I'm totally a fucked up choice to be a father. So maybe, you just can't see me with you like that. I don't blame you really. I'd even understand if it were a deal breaker for you."

The wind is out of your sails now. It's like the euphoria from the last three weeks has suddenly warn off and you are seeing clearly again. Nolan was right to question you. Of course she needs more than you being needy. She doesn't need an a crippled addict to start a family with. Love is great until the feeling dulls and she wakes up next to an old man with no business being a father to their children.

You're already in so deep, but maybe it is better this way. Let her go now, before you get in even deeper. Sure, she says no kids is fine for her now, but just wait 'til she hits the final years of her fertility and she suddenly realizes that she needs a child to complete her. God, you'll be at least sixty then and no fucking way. You'll already be getting mistaken for a grandfather of any child you have as it is. When you're fucking sixty how the hell will you keep up then?

Sensing your downturn in emotion, she takes a moment to turn herself in the tub, sitting on her calves facing you. Putting a hand on your cheek, she locks eyes with you.

"The problem isn't that I _can't_ see you as a father, Greg. The problem is I _can_ see you as a father. I just don't want to get hurt when the newness wears off. I know you aren't asking to start tonight, but I need to know that this really is something that _you_ want before I can start seriously planning that kind of future for us. Not something you want for me, not some sort of impulse resulting from the great sex, not just a whim, but something you're really sure about and committed to."

"You don't think I'm too fucked up?" You ask, pain evidenced in your eyes which feel red and raw. "Because I think that a lot, and honestly, it scares the hell out of me most the time." You raise your hand to hers and turn your head to rub your beard against the palm of her hand trying to comfort yourself with her touch, afraid that this is it; that she has finally woken up to see you are too fucked up for anyone to love in a forever kind of way.

She raises her other hand and turns your head back to face her, then leans forward to kiss you softly before sitting back to answer.

"You're a million kinds of fucked up, but I still believe in you. I still believe you do crazy things for the right reasons. No one is a perfect parent, but as selfish as you can be with some things, with the really important things you are one of the most selfless people I've ever known. I've seen you risk your career and even your life to save total strangers. I believe you'd risk everything for someone you love, because you don't love easily so you value it more than most. So no, I don't think you are too fucked up to be a dad. I think you are the perfect amount of fucked up. Which is why I am so afraid of allowing myself to believe I can have a family with you."

Kissing you one more time, she turns back around, this time sloshing water over the side of the tub, before leaning against you once more. You place your arm on the side of the tub and she puts hers on top of it and intertwines her fingers with yours.

You're not sure what you feel now. Some kind of messy combination of fear, sadness and relief. If it were anyone other than Allison, you might doubt their words, but with something like this, you trust her. So now what do you do? How long do you wait to broach the subject again? Despite her call to wait, you know that you've already opened pandora's box. The, pardon the pun, seed is planted, and as much as she says she wants to protect herself from hoping for everything with you, it will be hard to not think about it. That's only natural, you suppose. Saying it out loud too many times does have a way of making things more real.

So get back to smaller steps. Ha! Like buying a house together is a small step.

Breaking the silence, she shifts things back to the original topic. "So I think we both really loved house one. My only concern there is the age of the home, could be there's old wiring and plumbing or things not up to code that could be issues sooner than later. I'd like to get Gabe to come down and do an inspection with me. He worked at Dad's company all through high school and summers in college, so he knows how to uncover any shoddy construction work. He came very close to just taking over the business, but Mom really pushed him to go to college and get a degree rather than just going to trade school. But he had a gift for it, so if he feels good about the house, I'd be excited to make an offer on it."

"It is a pretty bitchin' place." You agree and wrap your arms around her again, willing the nagging feeling in the pit of your gut to go away and trust that two broken people can somehow fit together to make a whole.

* * *

 _Notes: Both I and atavares had work weeks from hell. I told her at least our cycles were lining up. :P I have to give her lots of credit on this one for helping me keep House and Cameron in character during the kid talk. It is hard to not move them too quickly emotionally since I've been writing this for months, but for them it's only been a few weeks. Also she suggested that I have House take over the house hunting. I was going for something else at first, but this is better. Two heads are definitely better than one._

 _So I tend to go home shopping when I write house descriptions. If you are curious about 'home one' here is a link:_

 _www dot zillow dot com_

 _/homes/for_sale/39011280_zpid/any_days/globalrelevanceex_sort/40.357942,-74.666541,40.337075,-74.71143_rect/14_zm/_

 _Who knows how long that link is going to be up with working images, but at least for the current followers you should be able to check it out. It's pretty sweet I think, and totally full of fun places for them to have sex, which is why we picked it. :P_


	22. In A Good Mood

Chapter 22: In A Good Mood

The last week has flown by between getting all of your ducks in a row to make an offer on the house, your case and getting Alvie all squared away. You had an extra friday off from your Nolan visits, thanks to a fifth Friday in April, which suits you just fine as you are not really sure what he's going to make of the pace of your budding relationship.

You actually care what he thinks. It's frustrating, really. You don't like caring about people's opinions of you and you work so hard to get people to dislike you, but somehow the caring just worms it's way in sometimes. Then again, you get that you are to Nolan what a really great case is to you. A puzzle to be solved. You can respect that, even if you don't like it.

Alvie. God, that guy is so intense. He came by work last week to find out his results and you let him reek a little havoc with your team. By Wednesday, Foreman and Chase had formed some sort of strange bond with him, maybe a camaraderie formed from his ability to so easily get under your skin.

You do have to give him some credit, though. You thought for sure your and Cameron's cover had been blown the minute he showed up to your office. But he turned it into a sort of super secret agent sort of thing and truly reveled in getting to be the guy in the know around the hospital.

As it turns out, you couldn't get the DNA you needed from his mother's necklace, so you paid a lab tech to work up something for you that would 'prove' his maternal blood line. And you testified as his doctor at his rescheduled hearing. He didn't want to turn himself in, but Cameron has a way with people. She did the hard part of convincing Alvie to be reasonable and show up to the hearing. You did the dirty and illegal parts. She just gave you a look of approval when the two of you picked up the failed results and left you to do what she knew you needed to. And she loved you for it, because she loves that you don't care if the right thing is legal or not, only that it is right.

In truth it didn't take much to convince the judge. You showed up with a fancy test that he couldn't understand and an ID that says you are a real doctor and, ten minutes later, Alvie was free to go.

Foreman and Chase liked him so much they organised a little night out to send him off. Karaoke, which he totally loved. They, of course, insisted you come along and Allison thought it was a great idea for you to spend time with the old crew and say a proper goodbye to Alvie. You wished they would have invited her to come along, but Chase wasn't going to volunteer that, Alvie wasn't supposed to know her, Foreman wasn't going to rock the boat with dragging Cameron out socializing with Chase. He had no reservations having them work together, but he doesn't see the point in making drinks after work awkward. If you had invited her, then you might as well tell Foreman, and it is way more fun to see if he ever figures it out based on work interactions alone.

You were surprised to find that both he and Chase were pretty decent singers and the three of you brought the house down with your rendition of _Midnight Train to Georgia_.

Now Alvie's back with his family and out of your apartment. Finally. It's strange, but in some way you kind of miss him. But you have plenty other things to focus on.

The house, mainly.

You found the place and got the ball rolling, but Allison has taken the reins now and is completely in her element dealing with people, and paperwork. Just like old times. She's gotten the pre approval all squared away. Gabe took a half day on Tuesday, which was one of her days off last week, and they went over the place with a fine tooth comb. Over dinner that night, they filled you in and, aside from a few minor things, the work looked good to Gabe. So after a very late night 'Are we really sure this is the right move?' pillow discussion, you called Bonnie early Wednesday to make the offer, coming in at a hundred thousand less than asking, per her advisement.

It took a few days to get the answer, and both of you were really starting to wonder if you had bid too low, but as your three day deadline drew to a close, the call came in countering at eighty grand less than asking. You accepted immediately. So, if all goes well with the bank inspection, your official contractor inspection, and your loan, you'll be joint owners of maybe the most bitchin' home in Princeton in six weeks.

There was lots of fantastic celebratory sex, including another incident of her squirting all over you. Fuck. It's amazing to make her scream like she's in a porno. Can't fake female ejaculation and, damn, it's fucking satisfying when she jizzes all over you.

A smile plasters itself all over your face as you exit the clinic's exam room four, which the two of you now think of as your room. You walk to the nurses station to finish up your paperwork and sign out, and run into Cuddy.

"Good afternoon, Dean! The girls are looking extra perky today." You ogle her lovely breasts in her low cut light blue sweater, before you look back to your file. You might be having the sex of your life and possibly the surprise love of your life with Allison, but you certainly can't just switch off the lust factor with Cuddy and those damn fine… amazing… big… and, as you recall, delicious knockers.

Smiling smugly at your playful harassment, she leans on the station counter. "You've been in a good mood recently."

Writing instructions in the file you feed her your usual fare. "My favorite prostitute service is running a two-for-one special the whole month of May. You could join us and make it a foursome." Leering playfully at her again, you tap the butt of the pen against your chin. "Think Lucas would mind babysitting while I watch you get your sapphic groove on?"

Looking you right in the eye, she lets out a single grunt of a laugh. "Keep on dreaming, House."

You pout, sticking your lips out and furrowing your brows sadly. "But I just laundered my sheets from the last dream!"

You hand the file off to a nurse and start walking away only to have her follow you, heels clicking in time.

"Seriously, Wilson's still dating Sam. They are seeing each other nearly every night and you've just been minding your own business. No, it's more than just that, you don't seem to mind and you actually have been acting happy."

Stopping for a moment you turn to face her and put your hand to your chin, wrapping your fingers around it's base. "Huh. What happed to 'Mind your own business House. Let Wilson live his own life House. Remember what happened last time House.'?" Shaking your head as if to say 'tisk tisk' you toss in another breast comment, just because, why not?

"I mean, I know you are the queen of mixed signals, what with that shirt inviting every man—and some of the women— in the hospital to motorboat your funbags, and the boyfriend, but I was pretty sure you really _did_ think I should just mind my own business and let Wilson deal with his."

"Yes. You're right." She concedes. "I just didn't think you'd actually do it."

Being a little more serious, you continue. "Well, I can't say it is natural for me, but I am working the process and so far the process is working. Who knew? I guess all it took was a little psychotic break to set me on the path."

"Are you sure it isn't something else?" Putting her hand to your cheek she inspects your eyes and asks you seriously "You aren't using again are you?"

Taking her wrist, you gently, but firmly, pull her hand away from your face and turn to walk again, her still at your side. "Jesus, Cuddy, can't a guy just be in a good mood?"

"Yes, lots of guys can, but this is you we are talking about. You are only in a good mood when you are up to something no good, or when you have a really crazy case. _Especially_ when Wilson is dating. That generally spells a terrible mood and crazier than normal crazy House behavior."

You turn the corner and enter the hallway to the ER. Ten yards away you can see your girlfriend leaning over her nurse's station, writing away on a file of her own. She's in earshot now, so maybe she'll help you play along and throw Cuddy off your trail. Or maybe on it. You'll have to tell her soon anyway, you suppose. Just not right now.

"Like I said, getting lots of great sex. You sure you don't want in on it? Brandy really has a way with women. Her cunnilingus technique is truly an artform. I stole all my go-to moves from her."

Shouting as you close in on your destination, you bade Cameron to play along. "Hey, Cameron! Got a deal this month on prostitutes—two for one. Cuddy didn't want in on it, but I bet I can count on you, what with your theory on how threesomes can help maintain a healthy relationship. I figure that means a foursome would make us bestest work-buddies for life."

"Good morning to you too, House." She says without looking up from the file she is signing off on. "Hmm. That could be fun, I suppose, but only if I get to pick the girls. You just watchin' or do I need to bring condoms? I don't want to get an STD."

"The girls always make sure to provide the prophylactics. Job safety and all that. _And_ I don't think it counts as a foursome unless there is penetration all around."

Closing her file and passing it off, she turns to you seriously. "Oh, so I should bring my strap-on?"

You turn to face Cuddy and put an arm around Cameron and squeeze her to your side in an aggressive platonic fashion. "That's my girl. Makin' Daddy proud." Smirking at Cuddy and catching an exaggerated eye roll from Cameron out of the corner of your eye, you revel in the level of gross-out Cameron and you just inflicted on your boss.

"Jeez Cameron, I think he's finally pushed you over the edge. Great. Now I need to figure out a way to wash that image from my mind." With that statement and a continued shaking of her head, Cuddy does an about-face and reverses her path down the hall back towards her office.

From behind you, Rebecca, a tall, thin and beautiful brunette nurse tosses in an aside, as she types. "But probably not before she uses the image to rub one down."

Rebecca had been the one to push Cameron to take the ER position. She'd moved to Arizona because of her husband's new job about a year ago. She and her daughter had flown back to be in the wedding that didn't happen. Since then, Cameron had only talked to her over the phone or online.

Both she and her husband hated Arizona. A week ago, she shows up at Cameron's place to surprise her with the news they had moved back, but then, got a surprise of her own when you opened the door.

The rest of the night involved a lot of girly sounding bonding at the kitchen bar, while you played video games and tried to stay out of it. The ER always seems to be understaffed so by the end of the night Cameron had convinced Rebecca to come back to PPTH and she was working there again within a few days.

Turns out she's pretty cool, quick witted and a total perv.

You both snort at Rebecca's comment. Pulling away from your awkward embrace, Allison crosses her arms and leans back against the station. Looking up at you she questions "So what was that all about?"

"Cuddy thinks I'm too happy and assumes I am up to something. So, I told her all about the big prostitute sale! But she's not convinced. It's all Wilson's fault really, for going and dating his ex wife. Because that should be making me miserable, at least in Cuddy's mind."

You lean over the station counter and find the jar of suckers, grab a red one, rip of the rapper and toss it on the counter and stick the candy in your mouth, then thrust it in and out a few times while you waggle your eyebrows at your girlfriend.

Getting a little lick of the lips from her, you take the confection out of your mouth and ask. "Got a case for me? I'm gonna poke my eyes out if I have to look at another person's infected genitalia." You shudder. She laughs at you.

"Yeah, actual. We have a strange amnesia case. Not your normal sort of thing, but it beats the hell out of clinic duty."

* * *

Cameron was right, it wasn't your normal sort of case, but you were in a great mood and, as Cameron so aptly put it, it beats the hell out of clinic duty. You set your team to work on an MRI and head off to find Wilson for lunch.

You hadn't seen him in days and, unless Bonnie had talked to him, which was entirely possible, he had no idea that you and Cameron had an offer in on a place. Given that he is Wilson, you are sure he would have run you down by now for details if he did hear it from Bonnie. His own mind was so wrapped up in the renewed coital bliss with Sam, he more or less has remained self-absorbed, which, at least for this past week, has suited you just fine.

You and Cameron agreed to keep the news of the offer quiet until it was accepted. Which wasn't hard, because only a handful of people even know you are together, so other than Wilson, who would you tell?

But today, you have free rein to share. The two of you have decided that once you sign the deed, you'll declare your relationship with HR as you officially change your addresses, because it makes sense to only have to fill out paperwork once. However, you also agree, that if in the meantime it makes sense, you might just start telling people anyway. But there is something kind of fun about it being a secret and sneaking off to her office for 'consults.' It adds a bit of spice to the work sex. Strangely, no real rumors as of yet.

Well new ones anyway.

The old standbys are still out there:

You've been fucking her on and off from day one.  
(Because you are a heartless bastard who likes to use women for sex. Especially if they don't make you pay.)

She left Chase because she'd started sleeping with you while she was your boss for a day.  
(Because you obviously have a thing for power women, so all it took for her to snag you was for her to have power over your procedures. Truthfully you can think of far worse methods to get your way.)

The two of you are secretly married and the whole Chase thing was something you did just to keep people off the trail and to cover up the fact that Chase is gay.  
(You particularly like this one, as it is the one you started. The more ridiculous it is, the more people love to believe.)

But all of those have been around since before or just after the non-wedding. No new ones. Six years of constant flirtation pays off when you actually end up as secret lovers.

As luck would have it, you run into Wilson as you are exiting the elevator on the fourth floor. He looks at you and says "Lunch?" Nodding, you stay put in the elevator and ride it back down to visit the cafeteria.

Once you have your meals and Wilson pays, you find a quiet table in the back corner to sit and talk privately. "So, did you move out and not tell me?" He asks you just before taking a bite of his salad.

Shrugging your shoulders you take a bite of your reuben which, for once, was made correctly, though unfortunately it wasn't cold. Can't have it all you guess.

He continues. "It's just you haven't slept there since the dirt bike night and you were hardly there for the week before that. I looked in your room this morning and hardly any of your stuff is left."

Swallowing, you eye him incredulously. "I'm betting this isn't something you _just_ noticed today. There must be some reason you're bringing it up now though… hmm let's see…" Looking to the ceiling you tap your chin, then raise your finger in an exaggerated 'ah ha' moment "I know! You're asking Sam to move in aren't you? And you need to know if that includes a roommate in the mix or no roommate."

"Well… basically, yeah." He states simply and continues to eat his salad.

"The short answer is no, I haven't _officially_ moved out. I still have a guitar there and some books and the two suits I never wear. I was going to officially move out when we move into our new house, in six weeks. I still need to use the room to store some boxes in the meantime."

Well that was a more fun way to deliver the news than to just tell Wilson outright.

Raising his fork to point in your direction, he asks while still working on a bite, "Wait a second, did Cameron find a place? That was fast. I haven't talked to Bonnie in a few weeks so I had no idea she'd even started the process."

"No, Cameron didn't find it. I did." You take a bite and chew it some, then continue, mouth full "And _she's_ not buying it, _we're_ buying it." Swallowing as you observe Wilson's face as it turns from a look of confusion to eyebrows raised knowingly. "I'm putting my place up this weekend after Cameron and Bonnie stage it. Thus my need for your room as storage. I've been told I have to 'declutter' to help sell the place." You roll your eyes at the thought. "Cameron's apartment can't hold anymore stuff and her storage room is nearly full."

Using his fork to point at you, he shakes his head as a huge smile forms and plasters itself to his face. "So you, and Cameron, bought a house. You, are selling your apartment."

"Wow." His eyebrows raise "I thought I was moving fast." He says almost to himself.

"But seriously House, that is actually really great! Crazy as hell for most people, but for you, really fucking great." He chuckles and takes another big bite, shaking his head the whole time.

"So you and Sam are officially shacking up too now? Actually that's kind of slow for you. I figured you'd be remarried and re-divorced by now. Must be some kind of record for you."

"So when do I get to see the house?" He evades your dig at his relationship.

"Like I said, we close in six weeks. We have the official inspection next Monday if you want to tag along and see it earlier. I figure Mom's gonna wanna see it too, so we're planning on going over before she heads home. It is a place worthy of my awesomeness. I'll send you a link so you can look at pictures."

"So how much longer are the two of you going to keep pretending you aren't really doing all of the dirty little things you sexually harass her with at work?"

"We figure it's less paperwork if we deal with HR after we sign the deed. As far as the rest of the hospital, I guess it is still sort of need to know or smart enough to figure it out. Besides, it is more fun to say all of those things when people are still fifty fifty on whether or not we actually do them. I mean just this morning, at her nurses' station, Cameron and I set up a date to have a foursome with two prostitutes, oh, and she's bringing a strap-on. The look of shock on Cuddy's face was so cool. That was all Cameron. I can't get that look anymore. I miss it."

Wilson gets that far off look he gets when he is imagining something fun and dirty. "Damn. A strap-on. Really? I think I'd like to see that."

You pretend to be upset by the idea and scowl. "Sorry, boy-wonder, but only grown-up and artificial penises allowed." Then focus back on finishing your sandwich.

"Wow, so it's kind of an interesting coincidence that you and Cuddy and I are all moving in with someone and buying places, well I already bought my place, but still. It's nice that things are working out for all of us, finally. Sometimes I think this hospital is cursed when it comes to having successful relationships or something."

"So Lucas is official moving into the new place? I figured as much, but she doesn't talk to me about him unless I bring it up. Hell, I still think she'd be keeping him a secret still if I hadn't caught them together."

"It's more than that. They are engaged now. He just asked her over the weekend."

"Huh. She's not wearing a ring." Seems you aren't the only one keeping relationship secrets.

"I think she is still worried that the news will cause you to have a relapse. Maybe you should tell her about you and Cameron sooner than later. If nothing else, House, she's still your friend and she cares what happens to you. It might make things easier knowing she doesn't have to walk around on eggshells around you about her relationship with Lucas anymore."

Shrugging your shoulders you consider his words. He's right, but you know it is more complicated than that. Things could get awkward for Cuddy and Cameron. Cuddy was pro Cameron early on, but a lot has changed over the last few years. Lucas or not, Cameron or not, there is still more that just friendship between you and Cuddy. Not enough, at least for you and, you assume by her actions, her either, to destroy what you both have now. But enough that it isn't going to be as simple as just telling her and going on. You remember what a blow it was to find out about Lucas.

You'll just have to talk to Cameron about it. Maybe it won't be that bad. Afterall, Cuddy was the one to insist that you stay out of other people's relationships. And she was the one to move on first.

"So you and Cameron want to come over for dinner tonight? We can celebrate both our news." Wilson says, breaking you away from your thoughts.

"Sure. Should I order the strippers or bring the booze or both?"

* * *

After work, you arrive at Wilson's place, let yourself in with no preamble, hang your jacket, and call out. "Hey, honey! I'm home!"

"In the kitchen. Can you toss the chicken in the oven for me? It's in the fridge."

You fall in beside your friend in the kitchen, open the fridge and take out the lemon-herb chicken marinating within, put it in the oven and set the timer.

"So I might have let it slip today to Cuddy that you are buying a new house and are moving out on your own in six weeks." Wilson confesses as he chops carrots and parsnips. Fuck, you feel like someone just dropped a rock into the pit of your stomach. This is not how you wanted Cuddy to find out. You aren't really sure how you did want to tell her, but this wasn't it.

Face-palming, you whine at your friend. "Jesus, Wilson, why the hell did you tell her that! Shit, she and Allison are still at work. I'd better text Allison and warn her." You start to grab your phone.

"No, no, no." He puts his hands up, still holding the large chopping blade. "I didn't tell her you are buying a house _with_ Allison. I just told her _you_ are buying a house." You roll your eyes at him, this is somewhat better, but still not his news to tell.

Giving you a defensive look, he continues "She was really worried about you. With Sam moving in, the engagement, her closing on a new home herself, she's concerned that everyone is moving on and leaving you behind." He shrugs his shoulders. "I thought it would make her feel better to know you had some healthy plans yourself."

"And?" You ask, wondering if this appeased her and hopefully both gets her off your back and buys you some time to talk to Allison about telling Cuddy.

"And what?" Wilson asks, totally oblivious as usual.

"And was she satisfied that I'm going to be _okay_ and not go on an all-night bender and wake up in a random neighbor's bed?" 'Or accidentally kill your girlfriend again?' You say only in your mind, because that you couldn't live with again.

"Dunno. She was kind of speechless, and a little confused. But she accepted it, I think, and at least seemed to prefer the idea to you moving back to your old place."

Don't we all? You'd surely backslide if you were alone there again.

"Look, I just wanted to give you a heads up." He says as he resumes chopping. "She's probably going to ask you about it tomorrow and I didn't want you to be blind-sided.

Well, guess it's time for you to take your rare turn of going out into the field tomorrow. Your team has sucked at that recently anyway. Maybe Daddy needs to show them how it is done and if in the process he also gets to avoid Cuddy for the day, then that works too.

"I need a drink." You sigh.

"Beer and white wine's in the fridge. If you want a red, though I don't recommend it as a pairing for dinner, you can peruse what's in the rack." He answers.

"I was actually thinking something stronger." Opening the cabinet that normally house's the liquor, you find it lacking any alcohol.

"Good luck there. I got rid of the hard stuff after your girlfriend nearly castrated me for 'letting' you get wasted. I don't think that was my fault, but then again she made a good point. With your history and your current medication, you really should be limiting the hard stuff to one or two drinks on rare occasions. We've all been looking the other way recently, because you've been doing so well, but drinking liquor isn't the most healthy thing for you."

He finishes his prep work and pulls a tray of cheese he must have prepped earlier out of the fridge and places it on the counter, along with a bottle of chardonnay he's already chilled for this small starter course. He's such a Martha Stewart when it comes to entertaining. You kind of miss it.

"Seriously? She hasn't said a word to me." She has gone and taken more pages from your playbook and gotten sneaky on you. You could tell she was pissed with Wilson on the phone the other day, but apparently you've worried her more than you realized.

"And why do you think that is?" He pops the cork as you grab four glasses from the cabinet. "She knows at the end of the day, if you decide to get hammered you'll do it. There is no telling House what to do. But we can help you when you _aren't_ looking to get hammered. She can distract you with sex and I can be better about limiting what I keep around for you to drink." She's right, on both fronts, you shouldn't be drinking the hard stuff much if at all and you don't like to be told what to do. Well, you decided to let her try to fix you. Stands to reason she'd get Wilson in on it too.

"Oh, come on James." You wink, as he pours you both a glass. "Try the sex route. You know you're curious."

You hear the front door lock turn and, a second later, the door open and close. "Hey guys." Sam calls as she hangs up her jacket. Entering the kitchen she asks, "No Allison?"

"She's working a ten." You answer. "If she's lucky and doesn't have to work over, she'll be here around seven."

"Oh that's right, ER has the whole compressed work week thing. So James told me that congratulations are in order. I can't wait to see the house! Maybe when Allison gets here we can look at pictures."

Wilson plants a kiss on her cheek as he hands her a glass of wine. She returns the kiss, then grabs a piece of the cheese and takes a drink.

"And _James_ tells me that after this weekend, you'll be shacking up again. Though, I'm surprised you're still going through with it now that you know that the odds getting another naked breakfast with me are going to diminish to a near zero chance once we move into the house. I mean, I assume that was a big factor in your wanting to wake up here every morning."

"Oh yeah, you're right. I guess I'll just have to reconsider the whole thing." She turns to smirk at Wilson, who just shakes his head and wonders 'why me?'.

* * *

Dinner was fun. Once Allison arrived, Sam pulled out her laptop and the four of you stood around the kitchen counter drinking wine, snacking on cheese and looking at pictures of your future home while dinner finished cooking. Sam and Wilson were impressed, as they should be, and really excited for the both of you.

An effort was made to maintain your snark, but you found yourself smiling and laughing and wrapping yourself around Allison's back as you looked at the images. Occasionally kissing the side of her neck, as your arm pulled her closer, you made jokes about all of the great places you plan on having sex in your new place. You haven't felt this normal in eleven years. You feel safe with Allison and Wilson, and even Sam. Safe to just be happy, with no pretense.

After you eat, you help clean up, then everyone lounges in the living room to talk for another hour or so before the two of you head home.

Allison seems beat and heads straight to the bedroom. She strips to her panties then grabs a white cami and pulls it over her head as she walks to the bathroom to take out her contacts and brush her teeth. Stripping to your underwear, you follow suit and in a few minutes join her in bed.

You're tired too, but you nibble at her neck and ears as you curl up together. She pretends to ignore you for a few minutes, but soon her ass begins to press into you and then she lets out a low sigh as your hardening shaft pulses against it. "One of these days, I want to fuck that tight little ass of yours. It's only fair after what you did to me."

You let a hand wander under her top to find a hard nipple and give it a pinch. She purrs, "Mmmm. God, you make me hot when you talk to me like that. But, I think maybe we should start with our toys first. Not-so-little Greg is, well… not so little."

"Are you an anal virgin?" You finally ask her the question that's been on your mind for weeks. "You seem very receptive when I use my fingers. And, of course, you came pretty hard with the anal beads on Saturday." There's the understatement of the century. Gaging by her screams, she loved them as much as you did, the Saturday prior.

She turns over to face you, kissing her you roll onto your back, pulling her to lie on top of you. Your hands slide down her back and under her panties to grab her ass.

"I've had some experience before you." She tells you as she grinds against you and starts sucking your ear. "Fingers, of course, and once with a small vibrator and god, I really enjoyed the anal beads. But, yes, I suppose I am a virgin. I've never had full penetration anal sex. I've always been a little afraid it will hurt."

"Fuck, Allison. I want to be your first. Will you let me do that to you? We can take it slow, and work our way up in size. I promise I won't hurt you. I know I can make it really good for you."

She looks you in the eye. "I trust you. Everything you do to me turns me on, Greg."

"So that's a yes." Clarifying, you smile at her hopefully.

"God yes, but not tonight. Tonight, I really want you to suck my clit. I've been thinking about oral sex all day thanks to your foursome joke. Think you can do that for me? Suck me off as well as two hot lesbians?" Fuck when she talks to you like this. Fucking dirty. Making you think of her with other women, it makes your cock strain in an incredibly delicious way.

"Sit on my face and find out." You growl and let her roll off of you so you both can rid yourselves of your last bit of clothing. Scooting down the bed a little you give her full access to straddle your face. She crawls over you and puts her hot little pussy right over your nose and mouth. Her smell is making your cock weep and throb. She grabs onto the headboard as you wrap your arms around, and over her thighs to pull open her lips with your fingers. This grants you full access to her clit which you blow on and watch for a moment as it twitches and jumps in anticipation of your mouth fucking.

"First, I think that Brandy would suck you like this." You say as you take her fully into your mouth and suck her like her clit is a tiny cock, occasionally flickering the tip of your tongue across it. She moans and gyrates on your mouth. Her juices start to drip down your chin, and you stop sucking long enough to lick her clean, enjoying the taste of her, before resuming your clitoral assault.

She's desperately fucking your mouth now. It's a wonder you can still breath. It's incredibly sexy when she fucks your face like she is using you solely to get off. Her hand is pulling your hair while she rides you and you suck her, humming against her moans. It doesn't take long for her to come, which leaves her panting above you.

A moment later she dismounts and crawls down your body to kiss you and greedily licks her own juices from your mouth. You kiss her back, sucking her tongue much like you were just sucking her clit which gives you the most wicked of thoughts. "Allison, I want you to suck my tongue like you'd suck a clit. Fuck my mouth like it's a pussy for me. I want you to taste yourself and think about how hot it would be if you were sucking off another woman for me. Getting her off while I watch, after I watched her get you off."

"Okay. I'll suck your mouth like it's a cunt, but I want you to fuck me while I do it." Jesus, words like 'cunt' coming out of your innocent little Cameron make you desperate to impale her. Grabbing her hips you rub her wet labia against your straining cock. Then one longer stroke and you slip inside her, burying yourself fully. It's all you can do to not come. She starts sucking your tongue then and you hold her hips still, so you have time to adjust to the new level of sensation without blowing your load.

Pushing your hands farther down her thighs you push her legs together and place yours around them, restricting her movements. She is so tight this way. She starts grinding her clit against your pelvis, which milks your cock in time. Her mouth licks and sucks desperately at yours as your brain envisions her head between the legs of another beautiful woman, fucking her for your pleasure. Her hot, tight pussy encases your dick completely as she grinds her clit against you, desperate for her second release. You, just lie back, letting her use you to get off.

Pulling your head back you groan. "Fuck, Allison! I'm going to come!" You spill yourself into her as your body loses control. You look up a moment later, and she looks into your eyes with a mischievous grin as she continues to grind her clit against your pelvic bone while your cock continues to twitch inside of her tight channel. You take a deep breath, then find the energy to roll her over. Kissing her, you withdraw your penis and let your mouth work its way down the middle of her body, stopping at her navel.

Her breath catches as you lick it's perimeter slowly, then flicker your tongue inside it. Nibbling next, you continue farther until your mouth finds her clit again. Wasting little time, you suck it. You wet your fingers inside her with your combined fluids, then let your hand lower just a few inches more to find her anus and slip a finger in just seconds before she cries your name out in climax.

Her body convulses and you raise your head to watch her, your finger continues to slowly slide in and out of her. Once she seems to have come down from her second orgasm, your mouth finds her pleasure center once more and she screams again, grabbing your hair with both hands and wrapping her legs tightly around your head, nearly cutting off your air supply. You shake your head and flicker your tongue wildly, then suck again. Your own come is dripping out on your chin. You don't care, you just want her to get off on you again and again.

Slipping a second, then a third finger inside her ass, you pick up speed, thrusting them into her as you suck and lick. She's thrusting against your face wildly again. Moaning a long monotone, with the occasional upturn in pitch. One last big thrust to your mouth and she's shaking once more, riding another long wave of euphoria.

Watching her, you let her come down and finally open her eyes to look down at you. You smile at each other as her breathing regulates. "I'm going to go wash up. I'll bring you a wash cloth." You say, then sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed pausing for a moment to take in the sight of your sated lover sprawled in the middle of your bed, before you head off to the bath.

* * *

 _Notes: Thank you again atavares! We are coming down to the last couple episodes of season 6 and we spent a ton of time since my last update outlining the timeline for the rest of this season rewrite. So this update ended up coming a little slower than normal (a great thing in sex, but not so much in a WIP story). I've done a lot of freewriting around a loose outline of where we thought we should go, but so much evolves as one writes. I'd back myself into some odd corners, so it has become very important to lock in the final order of events to wrap this part of their story._

 _Hopefully now that we have things sorted, it will be easier to publish quickly. But with work, who knows. Don't be too sad by the comment of the end being in sight. There are still quite a few chapters yet to come, and if my life minds me I have plans to continue on to seasons 7 and 8 as sequels._

 _Drop me a note if your still following along. I really appreciate the encouragement from the reviewers! I'm excited there are still Hameron lovers out there reading. :)_


	23. Moving Forward

Chapter 23: Moving Forward

"Hey, babe." From behind you, a hand shakes your arm. "Babe, wake up. You promised you'd go with me to the gym this morning before you go into work." Rolling over on your back toward the body of the woman sitting on your bed, you crack open one eye and catch a glimpse of Allison in her sports bra, hair in a ponytail, before you glance at the bedside clock. Six thirty. Fuck that noise. Despite the enjoyment you get from seeing her creamy flesh, you toss an arm over your eyes, willing her to let you sleep just a little longer.

"Come on Greg. We went to bed at like, eleven. That's seven and a half hours, which in doctor sleep, is like a normal person getting ten hours at least."

"But, Mooom, I don't wanna go to school today!" You whine loudly.

She climbs on top of you, then grabs your wrists, pulling them above your head to hold you down and starts grinding her crotch to yours through the sheets. "We could work out other ways, if you like, but one way or the other you're going to start working out in the mornings again. I need you fit if we are going to make it through our list of exotic positions."

"You realise that you can actually break a man's penis with too much sex?" You say as your penis begins betrays you once more, again not caring if your prostate screams at you later.

Kissing your lips playfully, she stops her little lap dance and swings herself back off of you and hops out of bed. "I think Not-so-little Greg would disagree." She walks to the dresser and pulls out a tank top and pulls it over her head as she walks out of the room giving you another great view of her ass in those tight little running pants. Calling over her shoulder, she commands you. "Up House."

"Well part of me is now, anyway." You sigh to yourself, as you throw off the sheets and swing your legs over the side of the bed as you sit up.

'She's right. Again. But six fucking thirty is way too fucking early.' You think as you hobble your way to the bathroom, with your limp exaggerated both by the morning stiffness and the morning stiffy. Great. Taking the morning piss is going to be really fun now. But you do need to get back into your routine.

You like for people to think you're just lazy and sleep in until 9:30 every morning, which was true for a long time, but since you'd gotten back into shape after recovering from being shot, you have tried to maintain some sort of morning workout routine. The depression and pain get the better of you sometimes, but you had gained so much strength in your leg during your pain free summer you have pushed yourself to maintain it.

You could barely walk without the cane before then, pain or not. You hadn't done enough of the physical therapy to recover the strength. Now, at least, you can get around. The pain still prevents you from maintaining a normal gate, but you've kept much of the strength you gained and you can gut through the pain if you need to. But every week you slack off, you can feel it. You've let yourself get lazy and fall out of your routine, and now that the newness of your relationship is wearing off, it's time to get back in a groove and it doesn't hurt to know that some mornings are now going to include seeing Allison in her skin tight workout clothes.

Damnit, stop thinking about that for a minute so you can ditch the hardon and piss!

Once the plumbing finally obeys you, you wash up and grab your meds from the bathroom cabinet, toss them back, then head back to the bedroom to get dressed. You throw on some black running shorts and a light grey short sleeve t-shirt and some light weight socks, and add a change of clothes to the gym bag that Allison laid out for you. Wandering over to the closet, you peruse your large selection of tennis shoes that hangs from the door. You select your black Nike Air Trainers for your workout, put your grey and black Asic Excites in your bag for after and head toward the living room.

"I don't normally like to eat before I work out, but I can fix you something if you do." Allison tells you as she grabs a couple of bottled waters from the fridge and places them in her gym bag.

"I'll eat after." You tell her as you sit on the couch and start putting on your shoes.

You like your gym because they offer private rooms that you can call ahead and reserve. There is enough equipment in each for a person to work and to bring a buddy or two. Wilson sometimes joins you, but mostly you go alone. The communal aspect of the gym had been a big barrier since the infarction. Working out your bad leg isn't always pretty and you hate the looks of pity from a room full of perfectly toned bodies. Or worse yet, the comments of admiration from less than perfectly toned bodies. You're not a poster-boy for inspiration; you're a fucking cripple dealing with it.

You also like having a pool. It's the one cardio workout that feels accessible to you now. Not that you are breaking any speed records, but you hold your own and no one looks at you like a cripple while you're in the water.

Truth be told, you are really looking forward to getting back into working out at home. You had decided to find a gym when you moved in with Wilson, not having the space to set up your equipment there and not wanting to spend much alone time at your apartment. Especially not alone time that might result in leg pain, which always has the chance of turning into a moment of weakness. Damn, that reminds you. You still have the stash of vicodin behind your bathroom mirror. You need to take care of that before you sell the place.

The one cool thing that came from the getting the gym membership was discovering swimming. But the new house will have a pool, and between the two of you, you have a decent amount of gym equipment, so you'll be able to scale down your membership to be a seasonal pool pass. You're looking forward to that.

* * *

Your workout was good and thankfully your pain remained minimal today. You never know how it will be. Allison was impressive to watch. She is even stronger than you realized, easily doing full body weight chin ups and real push ups. She is also one hell of a sexy spotter, pushing you to do more work with free weights.

It was amusing to see all the young muscle heads ogle Allison and then look at you with a big 'What the fuck is she doing with that crippled old dude?' look. She didn't hold back on the PDA, either, clearly demonstrating you were her boyfriend and she was off limits. In the showers you overheard a couple guys talking about her perfect body, and then theorise that you were either rich or hung like a horse or both to land a fine, young, and hot piece of ass like that. So you made sure to give them a peek at Little Greg as you take a piss.

You are one hundred percent fine with adding some fuel to their discussion. Confirming theory number two sent them off to spread the news. As you walked out of the gym, cane in one hand Allison's hand in the other, with her lunging both your bags over her other shoulder, you got at least ten smirks of approval from various men and women.

"Got plans for your day off?" You ask her as you start the car.

"Nope. Was just going to catch up on some house work. I'd like to get a start on your place soon, but I also don't want to box up all of your stuff without you there, at least to get me started."

"Worried about finding my porn?"

"No, I know more than I care to about your porn stash. It has nothing to do with your privacy and everything to do with preventing my packing away something you might need, then not remembering enough about your stuff when you are missing something and need to find it."

"I'm shocked you'd go through my things, especially my porn, without me." You tease.

"Uh huh. Right. You didn't teach me to be nosy and to disregard the privacy of others or anything."

"I never was so lucky to find your porn stash."

"I don't need to keep DVDs around when I have google." She states matter of factly.

So very true, there is porn for days to be had now. But you like your DVDs. There is something to be said for a higher level of porn than amateurs fucking in front of handhelds. No credit card needed to pop in a DVD, and your keyboard doesn't have to sit in the line of fire either.

"Your generation is spoiled. Anyway, wanna help me with my case? I was able to trace the store our runner bought her heartbeat monitor from, using the serial number. I was going to take her there today and see if they know her, and hopefully, if they do, find out who she is and where she lives from them. I thought you could help keep us company."

"Sure. Sounds like fun. I miss doing field work."

"Great. Let's get breakfast, then we'll swing by and pick her up. I'm not sure what's gotten into the team lately, but they keep missing environmental things. I figure it's time to put the A team back on it."

* * *

You manage to sneak your patient away without being detected by Cuddy. Unfortunately, the sports shop knew nothing about the woman. You exit the shop and walk along the block, back toward your car.

It's a beautiful spring day, a little warmer than it's been, allowing you to don only a black graphic tee under your riding jacket. Allison and Mystery Chick walk out in front of you and you hang back to admire the view of two very lovely and toned backsides.

Mystery Chick, is a cute little blond who you've determined is a marathon runner based on her physique and attire. She has short cropped hair and is similar in stature to Allison, though her hips flare just a little more. She is wearing the tight black running pants she was admitted with, a blue running shirt and a grey PPTH zip-up sweatshirt you borrowed for her so she doesn't get cold.

Allison is clad in your favorite of her low rise, boot-cut jeans. The heels of her black boots provide a nice lift to her ass. Sadly, her leather jacket grazes the top of the low waistline robbing you of the view of the small of her back. As you approach your car, she turns to face you, her open jacket reveals her short green top which falls just shy of her belly button which begs you to push her over the hood of the car and lick it.

Slowly, your eyes roam up her body to meet hers and you force your brain to focus back on your case. It's back to square one. Smirking at your obvious appreciation of her outfit, she helps recenter you on your task. "Well, if she did buy the monitor there, there is a really good chance she's shopped somewhere else on this block. Maybe we just go store to store and ask, old school police detective style."

Nodding in agreement, you look around the block. "Is any of this familiar at all?" You ask the patient, hope that maybe just walking around the neighborhood might spark a memory of some kind.

"No, not really." She answers.

Just then, a donut shop across the street catches your eye. With all of the running chances are she'd be loading carbs. She'd need some kind of calorically dense food to support the running habit. "I think I feel like a donut." You say as you start walking away.

Crossing the street with no more preamble, the women follow close behind. As soon as your patient enters behind you the young woman at the counter asks her, "A dozen glazed, a dozen jelly-filled?"

Bingo! The three of you approach the counter. Allison asks "Do you know her name? She's suffering from amnesia. We're her doctors. We're trying to help find out who she is and if she has family we can contact."

"Sandy? Or… Shelly? I don't know; the guy she's with called her that once. I just work here."

"Do you know where they live?" You chime in.

"He left a business card in our free donut jar. It's up on the wall of winners." The three of you have a look at the wall and with some direction from the attendant, you find the correct one.

Jay Merrick, 10740 Albany Ave.

Finally a real lead.

Allison punches the address into her phone's GPS and you hop back in your car and drive to the residence. Hopefully he'll be home, and if not, you can either break in, or call his cell, or both. It would be pretty cool to watch Allison work a lock again.

"So are you guys married?" Mystery Chick asks to neither one of you in particular, from the back seat.

Guess she's noticed the looks.

"No, we're sort of living together, though." Allison answers. "We're in the process of buying a house which will make it official I guess. But we're kind of keeping our relationship quiet at the hospital. Only a few people know about it there."

"Ah. Workplace frowns on inner-office romance?"

"Not so much that, as everyone seemed to feel the need to interject their advice and opinions the first time we tried to date, so I didn't want to deal with it the second time around. And both of us have some romantic history with co-workers we still work closely with, so it seemed to make sense to just keep it to ourselves until we were sure if it was going to work out this time."

"Makes sense. I won't mention it when we get back, or maybe I'll just conveniently forget." She jokes, and you both smile. At least she's not feeling too sorry for herself.

A few minutes later you pull up to the address on the card. It's a modern looking residence, with stained wood siding. You walk up the steps to a small deck and find the front door tucked just past the steps on the right. Turning the corner you ring the doorbell. A moment later a good looking man in his early thirties just shy of six feet with light brown hair, blue eyes and black rimmed glasses opens the door and, immediately upon seeing your patient, breathes a sigh of relief. "Sidney!"

Moving past you, he throws his arms around her. "God! I was so worried about you." She looks shocked for her part, and you and Allison share a knowing glance, feeling immediately sorry and relieved for both of them in this awkward situation. "What happened?" He questions, still with no clue that his wife or lover has no idea who the hell he is.

Sidney looks at both of you, questioning what she should do and the man, sensing her discomfort, gives you a similar look. Guess it's time to go in and explain everything.

You and Allison pull up a couple of chairs to sit across from him in their living area. Sidney is drawn to a wall of awards and photos adjacent to the seating area. Evidence of a life she doesn't remember.

A short conversations confirms that the man is indeed Jay Merrick, and your patient, Sidney, is his wife of four years. He's called the police, but they told him it was too early to file a missing person's and he called the closer hospitals to his home but not PPTH, because that was out of her normal running range.

She questions their marriage, acting a little more surprised than Jay feels comfortable with. You can't say as you blame him. If Allison looked at you like that, you'd feel pretty terrible too. Seems she was a surfer and gave it up before she met her husband to become a lawyer and runs to deal with the stress. She wasn't too happy with the revelation. "That doesn't sound like me."

"Do you have any idea what would sound like you?" You ask, half joking.

She smiles back at you. "Good point."

Allison asks him if they keep photo albums. He thinks they do, but isn't sure where she keeps them, because that was more of her department. Allison asks permission to search the home for environmental toxins while he looks for the photo albums. She also inquires about photos stored on computers and cell phones as well, knowing that physical albums are becoming a thing of the past.

When you ask about toxins, he mentions to you, that one of her cases involves clients whose homes are contaminated with methane. That could certainly be a factor. So you fill the information away to discuss later with your team.

Sidney explores as you and Allison wander room to room looking for anything else that could possibly cause memory loss. You come up with some cleaning solutions, but not much. Meeting back in the living room several minutes later, you find Sidney and Jay going through an album.

She's looking at pictures of her surfing and she seems to very much approve of the idea of doing that. He also brought out her laptop, but doesn't know her pass code. "Do you mind if we take this with us?" Allison asks. "We can get past the password protection, I think, and have a look. That is, if you don't mind us poking around in there. Since she's a lawyer, she might have client information on there, in which case I'd understand if you didn't want us to see it."

"She is a stickler about keeping her personal computer free of work information and vice versa. Considering the circumstances, I don't think it's a big concern."

"Sidney, I know you don't really remember what is on here but do you have a problem with us breaking into your personal computer?" Allison asks, knowing that despite Sidney not having a clue who she is, she still has the capacity to make informed decisions.

"Knock yourself out. I assume whatever you see falls under doctor/patient confidentiality?"

"Yes. We'll only discuss what we find with you, or the other doctors working your case."

"Yeah, so if you have a huge porn collection, your secret is safe with us." You butt in with a wink, getting a look of horror from her husband, a smirk from her and an elbow to the ribs from Allison.

Then you see something off with her. "Cameron, you might want to grab her, she's about to fall."

As quick as you say it, Cameron and Jay are on either side of her as she starts to lose her balance. A second later there is a small puddle forming around her shoes. "My foot is numb."

"Urinary incontinence. House, I think she may be having complex partial seizures." Allison says as she examines Sidney's eyes. "Maybe this isn't environmental? It could some sort of older trauma to the brain."

You nod in agreement. "Let's get her cleaned up, then back to the hospital. I'll have the team start running tests to confirm. Let's take the albums and computer back with us too. She can keep looking at them later. Maybe something in there will trigger a memory."

* * *

Allison took the computer home with plans to enlist the help of her hacker brother to unlock it. You road back to the hospital with Jay and Sidney. You got her all squared away for tests and nearly make it to Wilson's office to bum a ride home before Cuddy turns the corner and calls your name.

"House! Where have you been all day!"

"Got a patient, you know. Had to do some work in the field. Don't want my minions to have all the fun."

"So Wilson tells me congratulations are in order?"

A wicked smile plays across your face. "Well, I hate to brag, but yes, I did achieve the elusive male multiple orgasm last night. But, how could I not. Cameron certainly knows how to wield a strap on; Wilson's got nothing on her. Brandy and Candy were so impressed they tried to get her to leave medicine for life as an escort, but she loves dying people too much to give up her job as savior."

"I don't even want to think about what you're trying to imply there." She shudders. 'Thank you again, Allison.' You think as Cuddy continues to pry. "You're buying a house."

"Yes. House is buying a house. It's kind of funny, isn't it?"

"And you are sure that you are ready to move out of Wilson's place and live on your own again?"

"Wilson is a big boy. He can manage without me. He's been cramping my style lately anyway. Can't just have the girls over whenever these days, what with Sam there all the time. And he's far less interested in gay sex now, so if I can't screw him and I can't bring over hookers, not sure what's left to stay for."

She gives you a frustrated look, not sure how to handle you. Maybe you should let up a little. She is just concerned, but, damn it, you don't want her concern. She had her chance with you, and she choose not to make you part of her life. You are torn. Part of you wants to get back to just being her friend. Part of you says fuck it, it's all or nothing with her and she choose nothing.

"Look, Cuddy, I know you are worried about me, but don't be. I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I've moved on. Yes, I'm buying a house. It's time. Wilson's been great, but he's done his time and he wants to move forward with Sam. I want to move forward and start over with a new place, just like you want a fresh start with your fiance and your new home."

She looks at you wide eyed. "Yes, I know about the engagement. It's all good. I'm happy for you. Just accept the fact that I'm actually getting a grip on my life again and be happy for me too."

'God, please let that be enough for her to drop it for now.' You pray to a deity you don't believe in.

"Okay. I _do_ want to be happy for you House. I just hope you're sure this is the right move for you right now." With that, she turns and walks away.

Good. You were a minute away from just blurting out everything; Allison's reaction be damned. She would understand anyway. She always does. It's just now you're starting to care if your actions impact her. You love her, so now you can't help it. Not to mention she is not above putting you in the dog house, forgiveness or not. This would surely be a dog house offense and you really don't want to have to sleep at Wilson's and listen to he and Sam fuck in the next room while you are banned from sex.

* * *

Wilson drops you off at your old place. Allison wants to get a couple of hours of 'decluttering' in before dinner. You enter to find her sitting on your couch looking at pictures on Sidney's computer.

"I see your brother was able to penetrate her box." Man, he does have the best title.

"He always does. He sent me this bad-ass unlocking program and had me install it on a thumb drive. Just plug it into a locked computer and a few seconds later, it unlocks like magic."

"Between your lock picking skills and his hacker skills, you guys could do heists for a living." Eying the thumb drive, which is still connected to a USB port, you start planning on how you'll distract Allison and steal it away to make copies for your own use. Cuddy's password protection doesn't have a chance against that puppy.

"Um, he could for sure, but I don't think lockpicking a front door is quite on the level of opening a bank safe." She answers as she glances up at you from the screen.

"The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, young grasshopper." You pull your hands together and bow Asian style, before plopping on the couch beside her to join her pursuing the images.

"She really was into surfing and, by the looks of some of this images, she was really good. Too bad she's married. I bet she and Chase could have fun together."

"Great. You're going to be one of those people who feels the need to fix up their ex, aren't you?" You roll your eyes. "But I wouldn't put too much stock in the marriage just yet. She didn't seem to be too impressed with Forgotten Hubby."

"Well, he's a stranger to her, at least right now." She closes the lid and places the laptop on your coffee table.

"So, I bought a bunch of boxes. Let's set them up, then we can start in the bedroom and work our way forward. I already changed the sheets and made the bed. I'll put everything I think needs to go in a pile and you can pack the boxes and label them so you know where things are."

"Okay."

"If we can do a couple of rooms a night, we'll be good to go. I think you might need a clean coat of paint in the living room too. You left a lot of big holes when you took down your guitars and the cigar smoke has left some discoloration."

"Great. I hate painting." Bet you can find a prostitute that does painting on the side.

"No worries there. I spent six summers working in the family business too. Gabe was the heir-apparent on the construction side of things, but I can hold my own with any pro when it comes to finishing work. I'm a badass painter and I kick ass at spackling drywall."

Alrighty then. No prostitutes needed. Maybe you can just get Allison to dress like one when she paints. That's what you like to think of as compromise.

"Good. I'll just sit back, sip beer and watch. Hopefully, you'll be painting while naked."

* * *

The two of you make good progress, finishing your bedroom in a couple of hours, then, end up ordering a pizza. After a dinner break, you start on your office, which is a complete mess and full of everything you just needed out of your way. The total gym and free weights have enough space carved out around them to allow for workouts, but your desk is trashed. Papers and books are stacked there and around it on the floor. The bookshelf is full and not well organised to anyone but you. You have a system, believe it or not.

By ten o'clock you feel like you've barely made a dent into the organised chaos. The both of you agree it's work for tomorrow, and head for home. On the car ride back, you finally broach the subject of Wilson's slip up with Cuddy. With Allison back to work tomorrow, you don't want her to get caught off guard with rumors or by Cuddy herself.

"So Wilson has a big mouth." You begin.

"Great." She states dryly. "So, am I going back to a hospital full of people who know? Do I need to hide out in my office all day and if so, can we just have sex in there all day? If everyone is talking about us, might as well give them a good show, and get some desk sex out of it."

Huh. Maybe you should just tell everyone now, because that sounds like a great way to deal with it. Fuck. You love bending her over her desk and taking her from behind, or sucking her from her desk chair while she sits spread eagle on top the desk. Then, there is always the under the desk blowjob. But that is a fantasy you'd enjoy much more in your office and one you have yet to get to fulfill. Too much damned glass. Not nearly enough locks. Sauce for the goose you suppose; the higher the odds of a walk-in, the more intense the orgasm.

Oh, you digress. Again.

"Hey. Earth to House. You still in there?" She snaps her fingers in front of your face and you realise you are sitting stopped at a green light.

"Sorry." You shake your head vigorously like a wet dog. "You said desk sex. Yeah, anyway, it isn't that bad, well, nothing about what you just said is bad. We should just have all day desk sex all day, everyday, and see how long it takes for everyone to figure it out. Spread the word by spreading your legs."

"So if he didn't out us, what did he say and to whom?" She asks.

"Cuddy is on a quest to find the source of my happiness. Wilson decided to tell her part of the truth, and now she knows that _I_ am buying a house and moving out of Wilson's condo."

"Ooohh."

"Yeah. She cornered me today to talk about it. I think she's satisfied with my answer, which is I am doing fine. I've moved on and want to get on with my life and put this past couple of years behind me. That I'm ready to leave Daddy Wilson's nest, and fly free."

"Okay. I guess this means we're going to have to tell her sooner than later?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure how I want to tell her yet. Rip it off like a bandaid, or start dropping her hints and hope she figures it out. Wilson thinks she'll move on completely if she knows. He thinks she's holding back with Lucas out of fear I'll go off the deep end. Which, probably has some truth to it, but I also think that she needs to control things; me being one of those things. So when we tell her, there is the chance that she'll feel out of control and, despite the fact she's chosen Lucas, she might not really be okay with the idea that I can also move on."

"You both make good points, I could see her doing either. _I've_ not wanted to tell her because she has always felt the need to give me her opinions about my personal life. I respect her as a boss, and an administrator, but when she butts in on my personal life, like she's my friend and not just a colleague that sometimes invites me to celebrate big life events, it just makes me want to slap her. She did it with Chase, and with you. In fact, she really put me off last time she talked to me about you." Her voice gets a little more quiet. "That's when I knew I was right about the two of you."

"Hey." You grab her hand. This needs to be settled right here and now. "She's made her choice, and I am glad she chose Lucas because if she hadn't, I wouldn't have let myself be open to you. I was an idiot before, but now that I've had you, I don't want to go back. I can't go back."

She squeezes your hand. "I love you too."

* * *

 _Notes: I think I caught atavares off guard this week. Boy having a detailed outline helps. :) Of course she came through again like a champ. Then we celebrated with some Night Manager. Yummy Hugh and Tom sandwich._


	24. This Is Nice

**Chapter 24: This Is Nice**

You are awoken around one o'clock with a call from Taub. Allison groans as she crawls over you to grab the phone and places it firmly against your chest. "House, you have gotta get a less annoying ringtone." then turns over, grabbing her pillow and dragging it over her head.

So, she's not always miss sunshine afterall. Sucks for her that she sleeps less soundly than you. You are rarely woken up by her late night call-ins.

"Yeah." You answer, putting an end to the Hanson serenade.

"We've kept the patient up for twelve hours and no hint of seizure like activity. We should shut this down." He informs you.

"Try a strobe light, add more stress." You suggest, not wanting to abandon the test just yet.

"I think there is plenty of stress in here." He must be holding the phone toward the patient because you can know clearly hear her arguing with her husband.

" _Don't we ever do anything but work?" She compains._

" _You_ _ **run**_ _." The husband answers, sounding completely at his witt's end._

" _But that's just more work. What about FUN? God! How can we be this boring?"_

Taub cuts back in "Apparently, without her memory, the patient's personality has returned to what you might call it's natural state."

Realizing at this point that the call is not going to be a short one you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Damn your bad leg again. It never wants to let you up with no fuss. You switch the phone to your left hand and start rubbing your leg to ease the pain that just started shooting through it with your sudden movement.

You hear the patient continue to argue with her forgotten husband in the background as Taub continues to try to convince you that you should end the test. No sooner do you stand up, in an attempt to give Allison the room, you hear the monitors beeping like mad over the line. "House I've gotta go. The patient can't breath."

With that Taub hangs up on you. Breathing problems. Interesting. Not what you'd expect at all. Well you're awake now anyway, might as well go in. Diverting your path from the door, you head to the dresser and grab the first tee shirt you come to, a pair of socks and then grab your jeans from a hook in the closet and head to the living room to get dressed.

You start to close the door behind you, but as you turn around you see that Allison has gotten out of the bed. "I have to go in. I'll be out of your hair in a few minutes. Go back to bed."

"I'm fine Greg. I know the drill. Once I'm this awake, my body goes on autopilot. I'll be up for a while now. Let me fix you some coffee and find you something to snack on."

You turn on the light and get dressed in the bedroom as she pulls on her pajama pants and heads to the kitchen to make coffee. This is nice. Stacy used to do this for you sometimes. She was a light sleeper too. It's the kind of thing you missed most in your post-infarction existence. Just having someone who likes taking care of you, someone you feel okay with _letting_ take care of you.

You smell the coffee by the time you are lacing up your sneakers and head to the kitchen.

"Here you go. I put it in a travel mug for you. And here's a Power Bar for later." She walks to meet you in front of the bar and hands you the cup and the energy bar. Taking them, you place them on the counter, then pull her to you, bending your head down to meet her lips. Taking your time, you savor her kiss as her arms snake up around your neck.

"Thank you." You say as you break away.

"You're very welcome." She replies, ending the embrace. Picking up the mug, you take a couple of sips as Allison grabs your jacket and hands it to you, then holds your drink as you put it on.

Yeah, this is nice.

* * *

You ended up staying at the hospital all night, catching a few hours of sleep in your office after coming to the conclusion that Sidney most likely has spongiform encephalitis. It's the only thing you could come up with that would affect all of the regions of the brain affected in hers. The treatment is less than desirable. You need to cut out her amygdala. Which means there is high likelihood of her never regaining her long term memories.

You informed the patient and the husband and they are supposed to give you their answer soon. In your mind there is no real choice—memories or death. But it's not your decision to make, unfortunately.

Glancing down at your watch, you realise that Allison will be in now. Getting up, you rub your eyes and will yourself to stand and head toward the elevator and the ER.

Finding her in her office, with the door open, you walk in, close and lock the door behind you. She looks up as you do, and gives you a smile which doesn't quite cover her look of concern.

"Long night?"

"Yeah." You confirm and sit down heavily in the chair across from her desk and slouch lowly. "I think it's spongiform encephalitis. So we're going to have to cut out part of her brain or she'll die."

"Oh." She answers sadly. "And her memories?"

"More than likely will be lost permanently. And to make it worse, the husband isn't wanting to give consent. He's smothering her and she's… well she's completely freaked out that this stranger, at least to her, is forcing intimacy on her. He doesn't get that he's coming on too strong, because all he sees is that he's losing his wife that he loves."

People are idiots when they think they are going to lose someone they love.

"So tell him."

She says that like it's the easiest thing in the world. Well, for her, it probably is. But you are not grandma's teddybear. You're more like her poorly socialised pit bull.

Shaking your head you tell her "I don't do the 'connection' thing with patients. You know that."

"Uh, huh. You keep telling yourself that. I know better. You've already connected with them. Just talk to him. Or I can, if you really don't want too, but it's not really my case, so not sure how well that will go over."

You start thinking again about how it would be if this was happening to Allison. How you would feel if you lost the part of her that knows you. All of you. All the good, and all of the deranged and rotten parts of you. The you that treated her like shit for wanting to love you. The you that couldn't open yourself to her. The you that loves her now.

For you the answer is simple and logical. No matter how much she loves the person you've shown her this past month, nothing is worth letting her die. You can remake the good memories if she's alive. Nothing will help if she dies.

Looking at her seriously, you take down the guard you work hard to keep up in front of almost everyone.

"If one day you didn't remember me, and there was a strong chance that, to save your life, I had to live with the fact you might not _ever_ remember me, I think I'd take advantage of getting a clean start with you. I'd court you this time around. It isn't often that a person gets a chance to delete all of the pain and awful things they've done to someone they care about."

"Yeah, but what about all of the good memories?" She asks you, solemnly.

"If they are lost one way or the other, why not focus on the silver lining. I'm just saying he's seeing it as the no win scenario, but he's fucked on the good memories one way or the other. If he just looks at it as a chance to start new, he might find that, as much as it seems to suck now, he still has _his_ memories. _But_ he also has the chance to give her _better_ memories going forward. She doesn't even know what she's lost, to miss it. If he can get past grieving _for_ her, and just accept it, he'll find she is still the same person who fell in love with him the first time. She'll do it again, if he just backs off and lets her."

She smiles full and beautiful smile at you. "I always knew you were a closet romantic."

Suddenly, a little uncomfortable with how you've opened up, especially about a case, you put your work mask back in place, and joke back to her. "Oh, good. Another closet. It was getting cramped in the secret-gay-guy closet. Glad to know I have options."

* * *

You head up to observe your patient and talk to both her and her husband. From behind the glass you can see them still arguing. Taub and Thirteen are there, trying to get consent. But still no progress.

Cuddy calls you under the guise of checking on the patient, pretending to be worried about getting sued by the patient if things go wrong with the surgery, but you know it is just so she can check on you. She still thinks you'll crack over Sam moving in and her moving on. You pacify her, but keep the discussion short and about the patient.

Tired of waiting, you barge into the room and tell the husband he might think he's saving her by saving her memories, but all he's really doing is killing her for the sake of them. Then he'll really only have his memories.

Not the best approach. But you've never been accused of having anything resembling a bedside manner. He still refuses while Sidney just wants to do the surgery and not die. Fucking consent law and lawyers getting in the way of the right thing. As you walk out of the room, you start to consider your conversation with Allison. Maybe you _should_ just talk to him.

Turning "Hey Forgotten Hubby, let's talk in the hallway for a minute."

You lay it out for him. He's angry at first, but the more you talk, the more it starts to sink in. Looking dejected and completely lost, he sits in a lobby chair, taking off his glasses and putting his head in his hands. "This is the only way?"

"Yes. It is." You confirm.

"Do it. I can't lose her completely."

You nod and turn to find your team then instruct them to get the surgery scheduled and the patient prepped. Damn, Allison is really rubbing off on you.

Heading to the lunchroom, you text Allison to see if she can join you. She texts back a moment later confirming and you wait for her and make her pay for both, if for no other reason that to keep up appearances.

Finding a table you sit down with her.

"So I talked to him about what we talked about. He gave us permission to move forward. We're getting an OR scheduled now."

"That's good, but I was thinking about something a little while ago. I noticed in her pictures that she used to have a surfing tattoo on her calf. She musta had it removed, but anyway, what if it's an allergy to the ink? I mean, depending on how they removed it, there may still be ink remnants in the dermis and if there are, the ultra marathon running might have over stimulated her immune system, causing a severe allergic reaction. It would fit the symptoms and, if I'm right, no need to cut out part of her brain."

Damn. See, this is why you miss her on the team. It does fit and none of the rest of your team, or you for that matter, are interested enough in her as a person to spend that much time caring about her memories and looking at her pictures. And none of you are Immunologists.

"It does fit." You agree as your mind starts spinning the diagnosis and the steps to confirm and treat. "We can put her leg under a UV light to confirm there are traces of the tattoo ink. If there are, we do a skin graft and see if the symptoms improve."

Calling Chase, you order him to confirm. He calls back ten minutes later. The tattoo is still there and he schedules the skin graft. Now you just wait and see if her symptoms improve. As a backup you make sure to get a spot in the OR for the next morning and have Foreman and Chase plan to spend the night here to monitor her.

Giving her your best proud boyfriend lear, you lean forward with your arms on the table. "Damn, I really love it when you do that. I want to have sex with you right now. I always want to fuck you when you have a good diagnosis that I didn't think of."

A male nurse, who passes by just as you declare your desire to Cameron, gives you a disgusted glance. He really doesn't like you, and you don't care.

"What?" You ask him. "Jealous much? I can have sex with you too if you have a great idea. Just ask your mom. She's always _coming_ up with great ideas for the chance." You raise your arm and give him the 'Oh, snap.' gesture.

"That's it! I'm reporting you to HR!" He says, as he storms off.

Allison rolls her eyes at you. "What?" You feign surprise. "I was just trying to be fair. Favoritism is frowned on in the workplace."

* * *

After lunch, you head back to your office and lie down on your lounge chair. Allison comes in a few minutes later, closes the blinds and sits straddled across your lap. "I'm ready for that fuck now."

"It's the middle of the day. Don't you think your office would be…" her kiss smothers your question and you find yourself not caring where you are a moment later. All you care about is getting her naked and burying yourself inside of her.

As if on the mere thought of being naked, you find both of you blissfully unclothed seconds later and you pull her down onto your hard length. Goddamn, she's always so wet and so tight! "Fuck Cameron!" You look up at her while she rides you, her dark brown locks bouncing around her face and shoulders.

"That's exactly what you're doing House." She says to you, back against the wall, legs wrapped around your waist as you pound into her pussy hard and fast.

Lying on your back in the floor she fucks you. Someone enters the room.

Fuck.

You look up to see Allison walk in your favorite grey pants and a purple silk button-down shirt, her golden curls framing her face as she smiles down at you.

What the hell?

Looking back down, you see Cameron still rides you, tossing her brunette locks as she arches backward moaning "Fuck House!"

Looking back up, Allison stands over you naked. Taking a step over your head she squats over your face, giving your mouth full access to her soft wet folds. How the hell are there two of them?

"Greg, I need you. I've been wet for you all day." The blond says as she dips even closer to your mouth and you very willingly wrap your arms around her and pull her down to suck and lick her gently, all the while, the brunette still rides your dick wildly.

Goddamn, did you die?

Sitting in your desk chair, you look down at Cameron and Allison as they both slowly and lovingly lick your length then wickedly kiss one another over the tip. It's the hottest thing you've ever seen. God, you might just come from the sight of it.

"House. Hey, House! Wake up!" Someone shakes your arm and you open your eyes with a start to focus on Chase, and behind him, the rest of your team.

Damnit! Of course that was a dream. Hope you didn't start talking in your sleep. Ugg, hope you're not sporting a raging hard-on.

Fuck.

Oh well. They're all doctors, afterall.

* * *

You're more than ready to leave by six o'clock. Stopping by the ER you look for Cameron to find out if she'll be able to leave sooner than later. You find her in her office, sitting at her desk with her cute readers on, working through a stack of case files 12 inches thick. Walking in, you close the door behind you. As you sit down and look at her, your mind races back to your dream. Damn it was hot.

"Think you'll be able to get off soon?" You ask.

"If you'll crawl under the desk, I'm sure I can." She answers without looking up.

"I fell asleep in my office after lunch and I had a dream that I was fucking you, from maybe five years ago. Then, present day you, walked in on us and joined in. Damn it was hot." Bouncing your cane between your legs, you let your mind continue to picture the woman in front of you kissing her younger self, just inches in front of your hard, aching cock.

"Did I make out with myself for you?" She asks, still not looking up from the file she is writing in.

God, if only. You might have come in your pants if they'd gone down on one another. "You were about too, I think, but then I was rudely awakened by my team. Pretty sure, I impressed them all with my giant hard-on, though. Thirteen, especially, couldn't stop staring at my crotch."

Looking up finally, with a raised eyebrow, she questions you. "Do I need to tattoo my name on Not-so-little Greg, so she knows who he belongs to?"

Sitting up and leaning forward, you smile and banter back playfully. "Only if I can tattoo my name on your ass so she knows it's mine too. Then again, if we both are willing to share, it could be a fun little threesome. Not as hot doing blond and brunett you at the same time, but a close second."

She looks up to the ceiling and shakes her head at your comment.

"So Cuddy came to visit me today." She informs you as she takes off her glasses and sits back in her chair.

"And she's finally agreed to the foursome?" Rising an eyebrow you shoot her a sly grin. "I knew after I told her how expertly you wielded the strapon on me, Brandy and Candy, she would get curious."

Ignoring you, she goes on with her story. "She wanted to know about the house. Specifically, she told me, that Bonnie told her, she was helping us both find a home."

"Oh, fuck."

"Yeah. That's what I thought. I was about two seconds from spilling the whole story, but she kept talking and I started to get the idea that she didn't realize Bonnie meant we were buying together. Just that both of us happen to be buying a house at the same time.

"So we had this nice little chat about the buying process and how she is closing tomorrow and about my inspection on Monday. Oh, and did I 'know about House buying a new place?' And do I 'think he is ready to be back on his own?'"

"And?"

"And, I told her that I knew you found a place and that I was happy for you. I said that I thought you seemed genuinely happy lately and you are excited to get a new place and a new start. It seemed to put her mind at ease, at least."

"Good. That should buy us a little more time."

"I called Bonnie to tell her not to mention us being together. Cuddy's out the next two days. She closes on her place tomorrow, will be packing the next two days and moving in on Saturday. We should tell her soon. The longer we pretend we aren't doing this together, the more pissed she's gonna be when she finds out."

* * *

The long work day has you forgo more packing at your apartment tonight. Allison stays just a little while longer to finish up paperwork, but gets home only a few mins after you because you stopped to grab dinner.

After eating, you lay across the couch with your head in her lap watching The OC on DVR. She runs her fingers through your hair ideally and before you realise it, she is waking you up to get ready for bed.

In the bedroom you tell her "Leave your clothes off. I want to sleep naked with you." as she disrobes for the night. You do the same.

Your phone rings just as you are settling into bed. The skin graft is done and Sidney is already showing some signs of improvement, though you'll not really be sure she's out of woods until morning.

"It's looking good for your diagnosis." You inform your bedmate, as you place your phone on the nightstand and curl up behind her, reveling in the feel of her naked back pressed against your font. You don't think you'll ever be satisfied with the amount flesh on flesh contact with her, wishing every inch of you could be against her, wrapped in the heat of her.

Nuzzling your nose in her hair, you breath her in deeply. It's intoxicating. Your left brain tells you it's simply pheromones and biology, your right brain just commands your hips to move.

"I thought you were tired." She asks, and though her back is too you, you can see the smirk on her face in your mind, as she enjoys the reaction your body has to hers.

"Mmm. I was. Then I smelled you." Pulling back her hair, your lips find the nape of her neck and you lick the small bump at it's base. This sends shivers through her body, making you content to spend more time feasting on the sensitive area.

She lifts her arm up around the back of your head and you can smell her scent more clearly, masked slightly in the pleasant floral scent of her deoderant. The sensation goes straight from your nose to your penis, and you can feel it spring as the blood rushes to fill it. Your hand travels down her side and slides between her legs from behind, lifting the top one, spreading her open.

Sliding up the inside of her thigh, you find her entrance starting to become wet, you spread the lubricant up her center, circle her clit then repeat the motion until you've made it slick and swollen. Grabbing your dick, you slide it against her labia, then between her lips, reaching around from the front now to press its head to her clit, stroking her with it. Precum begins to coat your tip and you place your palm over your shaft and thrust yourself between her pussy and your hand.

She is grabbing her raised leg now from the knee, holding herself open for you, her hips moving in time against yours. It's a wet and wonderful sensation—the contrast between her soft wet lips, and your own hand.

"I could fuck your clit like this all night." You whisper in her ear. "Then come all over it while I make you scream my name.

Taking a long stroke backward, you reposition and push yourself inside her. Your hand, now freed, finds her mouth and she sucks on your fingers one by one while you continue to whisper dirty things in her ear.

"Or… I can tie you to the bed, and fuck you with your dildo while I suck your clit until you spray me, then fuck you with my dick until I spray you.

"I love making you come, making you scream, making you spray. It's turns me on to hear you scream my name. I love the way you say it. I love the way you fuck me with your tight little cunt; like you can't live without my cock pounding it deep and hard.

"I love coming inside you."

Then you start moving more quickly. Grabbing her leg for her allows her hand finds her clit and stroke it. Then she smacks it once before rubbing it again furiously.

Fuck that is hot.

She tightens herself around you and you respond with a guttural moan. Turning her upper body a half turn, and her head toward you, she allows you access to kiss her, while still maintaining your angle of entry. She's so flexible and so fuckable.

It feels amazing, but you suddenly need to be on top of her. Pulling out, you lay her on her back to position yourself above her and push her legs open as you enter her again, guided by her hand. Leaning forward, you allow her to wrap her legs around your back as you stare into her eyes and make love to her.

It's like coming home now, looking into her eyes while being inside her like this.

You kiss her. Tongues duel as you ride out the building wave to climax. She pulls you to her as you come inside her, holding you so close and so tightly you aren't sure how she can manage to breath, but you trust she can and let her have the weight of you on her until your sexes slowly work their way apart and you finally slip out of her.

She releases her grip on you, finally allowing you to roll off of her.

"Your turn for clean up." You tell her, exhausted. "I did all the work, despite being the one who worked a double and the one old enough to qualify for AARP."

Planting a kiss on your cheek, she tells you "I love you." Then hops out of bed to wash up and leaves you thinking, again, that yes, this is nice, and you could get used to it.

* * *

 _Notes: As always a big thanks to the continues support of my beta atavares. Not sure if either of us knew just how long of a rabbit hole we jumped down in the beginning, but neither of us is looking back yet. :) And a continued thank you to all who have been reading. If you feel so moved drop me a note, if not lurk away. I accept all kinds._


	25. An Experiment

_Notes: So there is quite a bit of smutty goodness here. It's just what kept happening when I would muse over the story, but I am guessing no one here minds that. And judging by the chapter stats, people don't seem to be put off by anal play (highest view stats on the most naughty chapter, just so you know), but the beads are back in this chapter so just a little fair warning if that pushes things too far for you. However, I am taking a wild guess here and assuming that ya'll know what to expect from me by now. :P_

 _Atavares I am running out of creative ways to thank you for betaing this massive puppy, so I'll just say thanks again! It's been another fun week of writing and goofing off together._

 _Thanks also to the reviewers! I think it is helping get more readers turned on to the story. The stats have really picked up since this topped 50 reviews, so feel free to keep them coming. I'll keep writing either way so don't think I am holding the story hostage. lol (I know some folks do that, and well that is fine for them, but I'm having a blast one way or the other with this tale.) But, I have to admit it is kind of cool when I see more and more people reading my work. So thank you to everyone who's reading whether you drop a note or not. Just seeing the stats for the pages continue to go up and not down is really encouraging. :)_

 **Chapter 25: An Experiment**

Standing in front of the bathroom sink, you look down at the red and white capsule as you roll it between your fingers. You hadn't missed one in maybe six months until yesterday. It slipped your mind thanks to the late night call in. This morning, you wake up feeling truly awake. As if colors are brighter, the sounds around you are more clear. In truth, you feel great. There's the rub, if you will—the meds have helped you regain your balance, but you always feel like somehow you are dulled.

Question is, do you still really need them? There was a time in your life you didn't. You've been clean for a year. Your life is as good as it has been in 11 years. You love Allison. She loves you. You are taking real steps at making a life with her. She makes you feel less broken, even happy.

You had been happy most of the time with Stacy; it was the most stable five years of your life until the infarction. That, of course, was the start of the great spiral. You had had bad stretches before her, you had always found it hard to let people in, because it never seems to last. But there is a part of you that knows that you can't be happy and be alone.

The problem is, you just aren't very good with people. You're wired so differently than most, evading when they expect directness, being blunt when they expect you to skirt the issue. Everyone loves the golden rule. You do unto others as you'd have done unto you every day and all it does is make people think you're an ass. And fuck 'em anyway. Most people are idiots.

You are happy now with Allison. More so, even. She gets you. She even likes you. As much as you hate being wrong, and you do so very much hate it, you were wrong about Allison not being a good match for you. You thought you'd dominate her, that she would wither with the constant exposure to your unrelenting demeanor. That's why you find yourself chasing after power women. They are a form of external control that compensates for your lack of internal control.

But you were wrong about being with someone like her, someone who is truly nice and considerate, not just nice and considerate for political gain. She does better than control you; she compliments you, balances you. She simply bends with the pressure, which protects her from breaking. She makes you happy and really, what else do you need?

Putting the pill back in the bottle, you screw the lid back on and place it back in the cabinet. Only one way to find out if you are ready to live without a safety net.

Allison has already left for work, her shift starting an hour before yours, that is if you ever started on time, and generally ending an hour or two after depending on the volume of patients. She somehow always manages to sneak out of bed, get ready and never wake you. When you reach the kitchen, you find a note from her.

 _G,_

 _I hope you remembered that today is a workout day and got up early. I tossed some water and a couple of those breakfast bars in your gym bag this morning after my run. Come by my office when you get in and I'll make you coffee._

 _Love you,_

 _A_

You grab the bag and take it back to the bedroom and toss a change of clothes in, then head out the door to the gym. Won't be nearly as fun today without her.

* * *

At 9:30 you roll into work and head straight to the ER to get the coffee promised you by your girlfriend. Not finding her in her office, you rob her pot of a mug full and sit at her desk for a moment to sip it and to snoop, of course.

You are quite sure she's keeping the patient's computer here as well as the super-hacker thumb drive. Milling around her desk drawers you find both. You pull the stick from the USB port and open her work computer. You use your network password to log in, place both the hacker drive and a second blank stick in its USB ports and copy the files over.

You quickly put everything back where you found it and log off. With the main objective completed, you continue to peruse her desk with general curiousity. In the top left drawer, you find a picture frame tucked away face down. Turning it over you're staring back at yourself from a few years back. It's the black and white image the pregnant photographer took of you.

Wow. She's had it all this time.

You have to admit, it is a good picture of you. The patient caught you off guard with your mask lifted as she snapped the shot. Wonder how long this has been in her desk? Wonder if she'll display it soon?

It occurs to you that you don't have a picture of Allison. Now you really want one.

Under that picture you find a second one lying in the drawer, loose with no frame. It's the image your mother gave her of you as a young man—sweaty and shirtless. Wonder if she locks her door after a rough day and touches herself while she looks at this one? God, you hope so. And if she does, you so very much want to watch.

It's a nice thought, but you need to get to work, so you place everything back as you found it, pick up your mug of coffee and head upstairs to your office and your team.

* * *

Allison was right. It came as no surprise to you. When she suggested it, it had _that_ feeling, the one you get when you know for sure that yes, this is the answer.

Foreman hangs back in your office after the team delivers the news. He knows now. You can tell by the way he tilts his head back, with that cocky grin, that he feels like he has something on you. It's not a stretch, considering how the case unfolded and the level of involvement from a certain Immunologist that you did little to hide. Even though you didn't tell the team, Foreman is no fool and you've stopped caring if your team knows except for the fact that you haven't figured out how to broach the subject with your boss.

Really, the only person on your team you are sure would use the information to gain leverage on you is Taub. But even he can be reasoned with to some degree. Especially when you use your best sincere face. Or, better yet, when you just leave it to Allison to do the asking so his guilt level increases.

Picking up your grey and red ball, you prop your feet up on your desk and begin tossing it up and catching it. More or less ignoring the man taking a seat in the chair opposite your desk.

"So… you and Cameron?" He begins.

Still looking at your ball as you toss it, you answer. "So… you're losing your touch."

"How long?"

"Almost a month."

"This why she just up and left the team?"

You bounce one hard against the floor and have to reach out far to catch it. "You should ask her about her personal motivations for wanting to deal with the ER. I have no idea why anyone would do that." Bouncing it hard again against the floor, you watch it sail above your head and catch it again.

"I can't believe this!" From the corning of your eye, you can see him sit back and shake his head. "We finally get the team chemistry back to normal and you go and decide to finally stop ignoring Cameron. You do realize this is going to screw with Chase's head? And that will make him start missing things, and that might cost a patient their life. He's just now getting back to normal after Dibala."

"Chase is a big boy." You assure him, as you revert back to tossing up the ball.

"Cameron leaving him fucked him up for a while. He was always worried the two of you were having an affair. And you think he'll just be fine and dandy with it?"

"First off. Cameron is far too moral for her own good, so there was no affair. Not that it is any of your business if I _had_ been taking her over my desk in secret at any point in the last six years. Secondly, Chase has known for three weeks and no one has died. In fact, I think his head has been on more straight than it has been in a while. So if that's all you got, you can go mind your own business now. Oh, and keep your mouth shut about it too. We are enjoying the lack of co-worker opinions about our personal lives and we'd like to keep it that way."

He raises an eyebrow and exhales shaking his head. "So this is serious, then?"

"We're buying a house together. So I think that qualifies."

"And Cuddy?"

"Made her choice a long time ago."

"Does she know?"

Enough of this. You catch the ball, drop your feet from the desk and sit up straight to face Foreman. Half slamming the ball back in its home, you lean forward with your forearms on the desk.

"Boy you are full of questions today! You should use some of that inquizitive nature on our patients and maybe I wouldn't need my girlfriend to continue moonlighting for my team."

"So she doesn't know." He states smugly.

"No. Not yet."

Giving you an incredulous look, he stands. "Well, I hope you both know what you are doing. Otherwise when this blows up…"

Fed up, you give him a harsh glare. "Again, not your business. Now go find us a new patient or do some of my clinic hours. I already have a guy I pay to sit around and give me advice, so _you'll_ have to stick to the job I pay you for."

* * *

Days like today, you miss Coma Guy. With your patient recovering, but not released, you are just plain bored. Could always find another person in a coma to watch TV with, but it just wouldn't be the same. It's like you would be cheating or something.

Heading down to the patient's room you observe from beyond the glass wall. The husband finally gets it. He has backed off. He also brought her flowers. She's laughing with him now.

"Hey." A familiar voice calls from beside you. "Looks like he's taken your advice."

Glancing down at your girlfriend, then back at the couple, you reply "Yeah. Looks that way. Slow day in the ER or just can't stay away from the fun work?"

"I wanted to return her computer." She holds up the laptop where you can see it now.

"So Foreman finally figured it out." You let her know, nonchalantly.

"Took 'im long enough." She replies, with little emotion, still watching the couple behind the glass.

"I think I'm going to play hooky the rest of the day. Wanna come with me?"

"Yes. But that isn't going to happen. Some of us actually have to work at work. You should go pack boxes at your place. Your mom and step-dad are staying there this weekend and we've made it more of a wreck. Rebecca is going to stop by Friday after work and we are going to use her SUV to haul the boxes and your exercise equipment over to Wilson's."

"Playing hooky from work to do work seems counter productive." You whine.

"I'll make it worth your while later."

You snort and roll your eyes. "As if you'd withhold sex from me if I didn't."

Smiling slyly back to you, she gives you a taste of eyesex and replies "Yeah, but my level of creativity will be much higher if you are a good boy."

"In other words, be good now and you'll be more bad later." You waggle your eyebrows at her with a goofy grin.

"Yep."

"Okay. You drive a hard bargain; I suppose I could go do my own packing. But don't be mad if I don't declutter the right things."

* * *

It's odd to be in your place alone. You've avoided this as much as possible, dropping by to change out clothes and to get things you find yourself needing, never staying longer than it takes to pack a bag.

You had taken the time the first trip back to clear all of your drug stashes, save one. Behind the bathroom mirror are the last two bottles. To get to them, the mirror has to be unscrewed from the wall. It's the safest hiding place you've come up with. No one thinks to look there. But you can't leave them for the next owner to find during a future bathroom renovation.

Going to the closet you pull out your toolbox, open it and grab your cordless power drill, put the Phillips bit on and head to the bathroom to take care of the last piece of your life as an addict.

Five minutes later you are reattaching the mirror. Putting away your drill, you head to the office and start tossing piles into boxes.

By six o'clock you've more or less managed to box away sixty percent of your library and paperwork, clean and rearrange the much more empty room into something like you'd see in a show room. Allison might actually be impressed with you. And you know exactly what you want to do as your reward.

You text her for an ETA and find she's heading to the showers. "My place." Is your reply and then you hit the speed dial for Chinese.

The food beats Allison by a few minutes and you place the bag on the coffee table as you sit at your couch. She walks in just as you are shoveling the first bite in your mouth. A moment later she is sitting beside you, grabbing her egg roll and smoothing it in duck sauce before biting into it unceremoniously. It's cute when she's hungry and eats like she means it. You've never liked it when she eats tiny little bites like she thinks she's fat.

"You've got duck sauce dipping down your chin." You tell her and think about another type of sauce you'd like to drip on her chin. Her tongue darts out to lap it up. God it's hot.

"Get a lot done?" She asks in between the egg roll and her chicken-fried rice.

"Office is done. I figure kitchen should be next. I don't think that will take long. I haven't kept real food here in a year. But I also haven't really cleaned in that long either and who knows what the hell Alvie left for us. If we have time, the hall closet needs to be cleaned out to. I have dad's gun and sword from his Marine uniform in there too. Don't want to leave those lying around while buyers are looking around."

"You have a gun and a sword tucked away in your hall closet?"

"Yeah. Standard issue Beretta M9 45 caliber and his ceremonial dress sword."

"Don't know why I'm surprised. You used to keep that revolver in your desk at work." She shakes her head at you and starts to eat. After swallowing her first bite, she tells you. "I used to go to the range sometimes with my uncle. He was a cop. He thought everyone should know the basics of how to shoot. Brian liked to skeet shoot, I went with him a couple of times before he got too sick. I sucked at it, but I'm decent shooting a stationary target with a handgun or a rifle. Well at least I was when I was a teenager."

You think back to your own teenage experience. Every young man on the base was dragged out to the range by their fathers at some point to learn the basics of gun safety and marksmanship. It was actually one of the not so terrible things you did with him. "Dad made sure I knew how to shoot a handgun and a riffle. Can't say I'm a sharpshooter, but I can hit the target. I've been to the range a couple of times since he left it to me. Just to make sure I remembered how it goes."

"Do you have a gun safe?"

"Nope." You probably should, but you lived alone and you didn't worry much about it being stolen.

"I don't want it in my place without one. If my nephews visit or if Rebecca brings her kids over, I won't have a loose gun, even if it is unloaded, around the kids."

Always the thoughtful one and she's right. Your dad taught you better, you just haven't had a reason to care until now. "We can probably order one online later tonight."

"Sounds good. We should go to a range sometime. If we have it around, I'd also feel better if I am comfortable with how it works." She tells you and you try to imagine her wielding a weapon and it amuses you because the idea of it is so not loving and nurturing Cameron. Then again, maybe it is more Allison.

"That sounds like fun."

* * *

The rest of the night was very productive. You finished the kitchen and the closet. Allison, with the help of Rebecca, plans on loading up the boxes tomorrow and taking them by Wilson's for storage then having a girls night out.

You had wanted to get the place up sooner, but with work and your mom coming in, looks like it might get pushed back a few days. No big deal, you guess. Turning out the lights, you look around the old place one more time before you lock the door and head home.

After a nice shower together, you and Allison head to bed and you drag your laptop with you to order the safe. Once you are done, your mind drifts to the idea of more fun things. Ever since she gave you permission, your mind keeps wandering back to the idea of getting to take her backdoor virginity. You think some extra toys are in order.

You pat on the bed, right next to you, inviting her to sit closer to you to surf the sex toy website. "Wanna help me pick out my birthday present to myself?"

"Sure. Sounds fun. Whadda you have in mind?" She asks as she scoots closer. You type in 'double penetration cockring' into the sex toy web page's search bar and are instantly pleased with the results.

"I'm thinking one of these guys would be a nice way to help work our way up to you being able to handle Little Greg knocking on your backdoor."

Reaching her hand over to the track pad, she pushes your hand aside and clicks on a jet black number called the 'Thug.' "What the heck is this?" She says laughing. On the full product page, you both look and the images of a dildo with a channel carved out toward the base which attaches to your dick with a cockring. "This description is fucking hilarious!" She laughs then does her best commercial voiceover "'Thug is a dick dildo attached to a cock ring. Stretch the ring around your cock and balls and it lays out on top of your _**meat**_ for one _**hot**_ double penetrator.' I can't believe someone gets paid to write this stuff." She continues giggling and navigates back to the results page.

Guess she's driving now. Not that you mind. It's kind of fun seeing this playful and naughty side of her. "Oh hell yes!" She squeals as she finds another more interesting option clicking on the 'My First Double Penetrator, Lusty Lavender' selection. Fuck yes. Now _this_ is something you want to fuck her with. The page opens and you view the images of a purple cock ring with a nub and vibe on top and a 5.5 inch slender dildo that would situate itself just under your own cock.

No funny description on this one, but who cares. It looks like a perfect first step for anal intercourse. And goddamn, it lets you fuck all of her hot spots at the same time. Your cock is starting to wake up at the thought so you click the 'add to cart' button and flash her a wicked grin as you let your left hand stray to the waistline of her panties. As you slide underneath the cotton fabric, she navigates back to the results screen once more and continues to scroll over the options.

Then she sees something different, the 'Zen Black C Ring W/Vibrating Prostrate Probe.' Flashing you a wicked grin as she opens the page and you open her folds, you both let out a little moan as you look at the black butt plug attached to a double cock ring. "Oh god Greg, listen to this! 'RO-Zen's strong, tight, double ring will support and hold you giving a larger, harder and more prolonged erection whilst its slender discreet shaft sends ripples of blissful vibrations to your bottom, while you reach the ultimate erotic state of pleasure.' We _have_ to get this for you." She says and adds it to the cart.

Oh yes. She might be the most open long term (but non-paid) partner you've ever had. She is as excited to give you anal play as you are to give it and receive it. She doesn't think you are weird for wanting it yourself as much as you want it for her. She wants fun sex as much as she wants serious love-making sex. Not that you've ever dated a prude. A prude wouldn't give a guy like you the time of day. But Allison might have the widest spectrum of any non-prostitute you've been with.

One minute she is making your heart feel like it might explode with feelings you're terrified of, the next she is fucking you like she's on a carnival ride.

Your middle finger lightly traces her slit. She is so fucking wet already, though you've just begun to pet her. You long to strip her, to play with her whole body, but maybe one last purchase before you check out and tie her to the bed. You take control again with your free hand, as she lies back to enjoy your fondling, navigating to the 'Sexy Wear' tab.

Perusing over the options, you quickly decide against school girl. Too much baggage for you there, and she doesn't need help looking more young for you. On the third page of results you see something you know would look incredibly hot on her. A sexy cop outfit, with a black mini-skirt and a top that ties just under the breasts to show off her perfect stomach, topped with a fucking sweet hat.

Oh yes.

She'll be hot as hell in that! She can handcuff you and interrogate you all fucking night long.

Add. To. Cart.

"Mmm, that feels good. Express ship that so we get them on your birthday." She tells you as she moans.

"Here, fill this form out. I'm short a hand and I don't think you want me to stop now."

She takes the computer to her lap and, a couple of minutes later, the transaction is completed. She closes the lid and reaches to place it on the night stand.

"I want to tie you up and lick your whole body." You tell her as you dip a finger inside of her and nibble her ear.

"Mmm. I want you to tie me up and lick my whole body. I love your tongue. I love coming all over it."

You love it too. Her smell, her taste, the feel of her. Removing your hand, you command her. "Get up. Get the restraints and your big cock and bring them to me."

She looks at you and knows you want to play a game of control with her. Your voice is low and commanding, and you can see how her eyes darken at the thought of giving control to you. Standing up, she heads to her dresser and opens the second drawer from the top to collect the items you mentioned. "Oh and Allison, don't forget your beads."

"Yes, sir." She says to you as you swing your legs over the bed and stand up slowly. You grab the covers and yank them off the bed, making a smooth surface for your work. She hands you the items and you toss them on the bed and order her again. "Tie each of the restrains to a corner of the bed frame and make sure the cuffs are on the mattress where I can reach them."

Grabbing the first restraint, she squats at the corner nearest the foot of the bed and ties it. Then works her way around each of the other corners repeating the process before standing beside you again.

"Get naked, then lie on your back in the middle of the bed. Spread your arms and legs to the corners of the mattress."

She takes off her cami and her panties, then hands the latter to you with a devious grin. "We're gonna have to do something about that forward attitude." You say flatly.

"Yes, sir. I forget my place sometimes and need my master to remind me." She says from over her shoulder as she crawls into the bed on all fours, her pussy and ass on display for you as she makes her way to the center of the bed to do as commanded. Once she is in position, you hold the damp material to your nose and breath in the scent of her arousal. You can't wait to taste her.

Tossing them aside and staying clothed in your shirt and boxers, you grab one restraint and place the soft cuff around her right ankle, hitch it, then pull the strap through the adjustment buckle until it feels tight and pulls her leg hard toward the corner. Her right hand is next, then you work your way to the left side and finish spreading her open.

"Do you want to watch or do you want to be blindfolded?" Giving her a choice, you await her answer as you watch her sex twitch and her hips move.

"I'd like to watch, please." She answers after a moments consideration.

"Okay. I don't think we'll need a safe word, but just in case, pick one." You tell her, somewhat out of character, but you want to make sure she stays fully comfortable under your control.

"Pineapple." She decides and you nod.

Time to make her scream.

You crawl between her legs from the foot of the bed and lie with your head at her hips and reach to grab her life-like dildo. Using one hand to spread her folds, you rub the length of the cock against her wet pussy. Then you look up at her and wink as you lick her juices from its length.

"Fuck." is all she can mutter, wide eyed and completely aroused. Damn, you love you can be this kinky with her.

"In due time, Allison. I have other plans first." With that, you kiss her inner thigh and flick out your tongue to suck on the tendon between her vagina and leg. A finger dips itself deep into her wet center and slips in and out as you lick and nibble and tease her.

After you make her moan your name, you look up again. Feeling your pause, she looks down again and watches as you suck your finger clean then take the dildo and push it into her slowly. Her body arches up as you insert its length and you dip your head down and suck her clit into your mouth.

Leaving the cock sheathed inside of her, you suck deeply on her, without thrusting it. That comes later. She needs to beg you hard for that. She's not even close to desperate enough for you to give into fucking her with it. "Allison, use your PC muscles to keep it from falling out. Don't let it fall or I won't let you have penetration tonight."

"Yes, sir." She answers. Then releases a guttural sigh as you suck her again.

A few moments later, you've brought her to the edge. Stopping, you tell her. "I've been remiss in my duties as your master. I promised to lick your whole body and I've been giving one part of you all the attention."

"God, so close. Please, Master! Please, finish me!" She pleads with you in vain as you start licking your way up her stomach, taking a few moments to lick and blow on her navel before traveling up farther to rosy flesh of her hardened nipples.

Her breathing hitches as you suck the first of her swollen peaks. Her body is writhing now, arms and legs pulling at the restraints, hips undulating below you, trying to find some part of you to provide friction. Her whole being begs you and you tease.

You milk her breast until she screams and pants, then turn to its twin and give it the same treatment as you fingers twist the one your mouth just left, causing her to arch up again. A light sheen of sweat has begun to coat her naked flesh as you finally leave her breasts to find her neck and suck her pulse point, for the first time not caring if you mark her. You'll enjoy teasing her about it at work tomorrow, so you make sure that you leave a clear a bright red oval for all to see.

"Damn it, Greg!" She protests, but doesn't use the safe word. She wants you to stake your claim too.

"That's Master Gregory to you." You whisper in her ear, then nibble it.

Holding yourself above her, you look into her eyes and get a wild and desperate look in return. Holding your lips just above her reach, you let her try to raise her head to kiss you but don't yield your position enough to allow her the satisfaction.

Pleased with yourself, you get up from the bed and disrobe. Grabbing your cock, you spread the pre-come weeping from it over the tip and start stroking it as you look down on Allison tied up spread eagle on your bed. She watches you for a moment before she can't take it and looks up to the ceiling before shutting her eyes and thrusting her hips. "I'm going to lose our friend soon, Master. Please, let me release him. I want you to penetrate me, but I can't hold out much longer."

You climb back on the bed on your knees and sit back on your calves beside her and reach with your right hand to take the dildo by its balls. Pulling it out slowly, you can feel her grip on it. You thrust it back in quickly and push it hard and fully in her causing her to cry out, and then you fuck her with it fast and hard, slamming it into her over and over, faster and harder than you could do with your own. She's humming, moaning and panting as you give it to her and your left hand reaches over and rubs her clit up and down fast and light. She's practically convulsing now and you stop again.

"FUUUUUUCK!" She screams at you as she tosses her head back against the bed, hot and frustrated.

"I don't want you to come yet, Allison. I want to be inside you when you spray." You tell her as you reach down and find the lonely beads lying near the foot of the bed. Tossing the fake cock to the side, you use the beads on her pussy first, in order to lubricate them fully. She is so fucking wet that the bed sheets beneath her are becoming drenched.

Turning toward the foot of the bed, you release each of her ankles, kissing them as you do. Then you grab two pillows and ask her to lift her ass so you can prop it up to a higher angle. Once in place, she lays before you with her knees bent, legs wide open and bottom propped.

"I need you to relax your anus for me." You inform her. Inserting them slowly, smallest to largest, elicits more moans of pleasure from the gorgeous woman in your bed. Once in place, you return to her clit and kiss it, before flicking the tip of your tongue side to side.

A high pitched screech comes from her at the contact of your tongue. Time to fuck her.

Positioning yourself at her entrance, you fill her swollen and throbbing sex slowly. Damn, it feels so amazing for her to incase you inch by inch. Pulling her legs up, you put her ankles around your neck and start pounding into her. She screams again. "God YES! Fuck me baby. Fuck me hard."

You give into her now, fucking her hard and deep at the angle you know will hit her g-spot and make her ejactulate. The real screaming starts then. This always sends her completely out of control and she cries out your name and curses and sings out long sustained moans. Your body slaps loudly against hers. It's a symphony of sex sound that drives you closer and closer to the edge. Her muscles clamp down on you as she comes in buckets, all wet and messy and beautiful. You follow after her a few seconds later and push yourself in all the way to enjoy the dance of your sexes as they come down from the apex of your love making.

Withdrawing from her, your fingers find her clit one more time and furiously work her to a second climax. As she nears her second peak, you slowly pull out the beads and watch her spill over. She cries out more and pants again and it is so fucking beautiful!

You pull the pillows out from under her and reach up to release her arms kissing her deeply before opening each restraint. Everything feels electric right now, like you've awakened and are really alive for the first time in years. She puts her hands in your hair and you kiss her more. You have to tell her, need to tell her. You aren't afraid anymore.

Pulling back, you smile and look down into her eyes. As always, you see the deep love for you there, so you tell her, like it is the most natural thing it the world. "I love you." Then kiss her again.

* * *

Friday is an easy day at work. You did your clinic hours without complaint, despite Cuddy not even being there. Maybe even because if it. It's more fun to play hooky when hiding is a challenge. Besides, there is the rare occasion the clinic offers up an interesting case. However, you're no masochist, so you only give it the morning.

You've sent your team off to assist other departments and to hopefully find a case worthy of you. Feeling friskier today than of late, you visit the various doctors lounges and raid each fridge looking for lunch. Finding a delicious looking club sandwich, you grab it and head back to your office to watch Prescription Passions.

After lunch, you find yourself with an itch to see your girlfriend and to find out what method she picked to hide the bright red hickey you so lovingly bestowed her with the night before. She never wears a turtleneck with scrubs and, for the same reason, scarves are out. So your bet is on makeup. She doesn't normally wear that in scrubs either, but it is the least suspicious looking coverup, if done well.

Wandering into the ward of the ER, you spot her setting a broken arm of a little boy, maybe 7 or 8 years old. On the opposite side of the the bed a worried looking man in mid thirties stands watching, a hand rubbing his neck. That's the look of a husband that doesn't want to have to face his wife. Or maybe ex wife, you think as you look down to his ring finger, finding it ring free. It's Friday, the kid should be in school. Maybe dad took the boy out to play hooky and this means he's caught.

"See, that wasn't so bad and you'll get to wear a cool cast and have all your friends sign it." She tells the boy and strokes his hair gently as he looks down as his arm, still a little high from the anesthesia. Looking up to the father she tells him "I'll send a nurse over in a few minutes and and they will instruct you on your next steps and set you up with orthopedics for the cast."

"Okay. Any advice on breaking the news to his mother?" He asks and, if you aren't mistaken, he's looking at her a bit flirty. You don't like that one bit.

"Little boy's break arms every day." She says. But she knows that's not really what he means.

You turn and walk a few steps to the nurses station and grab two suckers. Ripping the wrapper off the first, a red one, you pop it in your mouth, turn back and head toward the bed. "Here, kid." You say as you hand him an orange sucker. "Stick that one in your pocket and you can score a second from the nurses later." The boy smiles and tucks it into his jeans pocket with his good hand.

"Man, you are so screwed." You snort at the man, still sucking away at your own lollipop.

"Yeah, I wasn't supposed to have him until after school, but I had an extra day off so I called into the school with a family emergency and picked him up to go play in the park. It has one of those old school metal merry-go-rounds, you know, like they had when we were kids, before everything became this plastic crap they have now. He slipped jumping on. In the grand scheme of things, no big deal. In the scheme of ex wives looking for reasons to pull your visitation, not good."

"So lie." You tell him. "Can't be the first time. She is your _ex_ , afterall."

"House!" Allison pipes in. "If he lies, his son also has to lie."

You roll your eyes at her. "He's going to have to learn to lie to his parents at some point. This seems like a good warm up." That comment earns you a glare.

"Or his dad can grow a set and just fess up, because it really isn't that big of a deal. It's one day of school and a broken bone." She suggests, for him, but directing it to you.

"I wish my ex wife was more like you. Maybe she wouldn't be my ex wife." He says with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

"Watch it, buddy." You glare at him. "That mark on her neck, that she's only been moderately successful at hiding with foundation, says she's taken."

Five minutes later she has dragged you to her office, pissed. Oh yeah, you were an ass, but fuck, she's hot when she's pissed. She closes the door behind you and turns "What the fuck was that caveman display abou..." You push her against the door smothering her words with your tongue.

Reaching down, you turn the lock on the handle and, leg be damned, hoist her up by her ass and wrap her legs around your middle. She bites your lower lip, pissed you have this control over her, but just as eager as you are for a good old fashioned grudge fuck against the door.

Goddamn, you've never wished for her to be in a dress more than in this moment, your hard prick pressing into her through your jeans and her pants as you grind into her, one hand still on her ass, the other on your cane for support. She's too strong to fall, thankfully. You just have to be able to manage the added weight. The door helps.

"Fucking pants!" You mutter as you break from sucking her lower lip and press your forehead against hers. Letting her down you step back and give her some room, when she surprises you by grabbing your lapels and forcefully swings you around to press your back against the door. You almost fall, thanks you your damned leg, but she is fast in pressing your back to the hard surface and it steadies you.

Dropping to her knees, she quickly unfastens your pants to find your little surprise. You've elected to go commando today. "Fuck yes." She hisses before taking you, all of you.

Dropping your cane, you right hand finds her hair and you pull the tie out of it and grab a handful of her silky strands. Your left arm raises to your mouth and you bite down hard on the cuff sticking out from the sleeve of your jacket, to prevent yourself from crying out. Her mouth is way too hot, her tongue is far too talented, her throat is much too open and you come far too quickly. Your head knocks loudly against the door, as the room goes white for a moment and you spill yourself inside of her.

"Jesus, Allison!" You pant as she slowly pulls away from you.

"Don't think you're forgiven for that little inappropriate display." She looks up, then licks you once more for good measure. "You can do that all you want in front of the staff, because they know you and don't think twice about your crude actions, but I won't tolerate it with patients."

"He was flirting with you and you're mine." You look down and tell her, as your hand loosens from her hair and tucks it behind an ear.

"And _his_ flirting isn't going to change that." She says as she stands. And starts looking around for the ponytail band you tossed aside.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Looking for the ponytail holder. Where the fuck did you throw it?"

"That's not what I mean. I mean we're not done. It's your turn."

"Greg, I have to work. We are busy today. I don't have time for anymore of a fuck break."

"That might be the saddest thing I've ever heard." You say looking forlorn. Then you remember about the pictures. "Do you touch yourself when you look at the pictures of me you have hidden in your desk?" You ask, hoping to seduce her to stay and play just a little while longer.

"Why am I not surprised that you've gone through my desk?" She sighs as she finds the band and pulls her hair back.

You close back in on her, limp more pronounced without your cane. "Answer. The. Question. Dr. Cameron. Do you fuck yourself while you look at those pictures?"

She looks up to you and you see she's lost. You know she has to be horny as hell after what you just did. The only thing in your way is that damned moral compass, but you've always been like a magnet where it is concerned, fucking up its sense of direction with a heated look.

"Yes. I have." She admits softly, licking her lips subconsciously.

"I want you to show me." You limp past her to sit in the seat across from her desk. Your pants still wide open, your half soft dick still hanging from the opening. Today it feels 18 again. You know you'll get hard once more with little effort, and it'd be a pity to waste that at your age, even if it hurts later.

She moves around to sit opposite from you, opens the drawer, pulls out the framed image first and sits it on the desk facing her. Then she takes out the loose image, propping it against the front of the frame, so both images of you face her.

Her breathing is shallow now as she looks at the pictures, back up to your eyes, then back to the pictures once more. She lets a hand travel down to her center and rubs against it through her scrubs, letting out a little soft moan as she does. Moving her hand back up her body, she loosens the tie at the waist, then slips inside her pants and tosses her head back as she strokes herself skin on skin. A moment later she looks back to the images. Staring at them with the same look she gives you when you make love to her.

Your dick begins to awaken again. Reaching down, you urge it on with your own hand as you watch Allison's face, while she demonstrates how she gives herself a midday rubdown. She's so close, you can tell. "Come for me baby." You encourage her with endearments you reserve for sex. "Look at me while you come."

She looks up as the wave washes over her, and she bites her lip to keep quiet. She's not even naked and the sight is turning you on to no end.

"Now take off your clothes." You order her. Standing up, she compiles quickly and completely and is now standing across from the desk blissfully naked. "Come over here and sit on the desk in front of me. I want to taste how you came for me."

Walking around the desk, she stops in front of you and you take a moment to kiss and lick her navel. The knuckles of your free hand graze up the inside of her thigh and you can feel where the wetness has dripped down her. Plunging a finger inside her, causes her to bury her mouth in the crook of her elbow, to prevent an outburst. She's quite literally dripping all over your fist as your middle finger fucks her and your tongue dances around her very sensitive navel. Pulling away from her you look up to her as you suck your finger clean.

"Goddamn, Allison. I love the way you taste. I think I'm addicted to eating your pussy. Sit on the desk."

Obeying, she sits back and spreads herself wide open for you. Licking your chops, you scoot the chair forward and lean in to lick the length of her sex, greedily sucking her come from her, reveling in the slick silky texture of it on your tongue and savoring its flavor as you rub it against the roof of your mouth. A hand is in your hair grabbing and pulling. Another pounds against the desk to demonstrate her frustration at having to remain quiet as you suck and lick her.

It doesn't take long for her to come again and her juices drip down your chin as she does, but you are still not sated. You want more of her. Standing, you dip your head down and kiss her. Loving how much she loves tasting herself on you. Then you plunge your cock into her and fuck her hard and fast. She forgets herself for a moment and starts to scream, but you cover her mouth quickly with your hand.

"Shhhh. I know you fucking love my cock. But remember that you are at work and need to remain professional while in the ear shot of the patients." You tease her her as you pound into her hot channel relentlessly. You want to fuck her raw, to make her walk the rest of the day like she's been fucked hard. You leg screams at you, but not as loudly as the wet slapping sound your cock is making with Allison's hot wet pussy. That is music to your ears. The way your balls smack against her ass, the little stifled grunts and moans against your hand. You aren't even close to coming this time around. You want to make her gush, but cleanup in the office is going to be an issue.

"Please tell me you have a towel or something I can put down. I am not even halfway done making you come and it is going to get messy."

"In my locker." She answers heavily panting. Fuck. That isn't going to work.

"You keep a spare set of scrubs in here?" You ask hopefully.

"Yes. I do have that."

Bingo.

Withdrawing from her you tell her "Pick up your worn scrubs. Put the shirt under your ass and the pants under us on the floor. If you spray me, and I hope to Christ you do, it will make the clean up easier."

She does as you command and you strip completely as well now. She is back on her desk in no time and back to getting the pounding of her life. Her legs are wrapped around your ass as you slam in over and over. You lean your weight to your arms and off your legs and it eases the pain. Biting into your shoulder helps her stifle her screams, but you are going to have a serious bruise from it when you are done.

Her fingernails are in your back now. It's a sweet torture, feeling them mark you in ten lines down the length of your back until she reaches your butt and grabs it with both hands.

You've become drenched in sweat and you both will need to hit the showers after this. No idea how you'll come out of her office not looking completely fucked. Who cares when she feels this good.

A tremor starts working it's way through her body and in a few more seconds she is coming all over you. You bit into her shoulder a moment later as her pulsating pussy finally pushes you over the edge.

* * *

Having a friend and ER nurse in the know may have just saved both your jobs. Knowing how completely shattered you look, Allison texts Rebecca and they come up with a plan. She discreetly brings in the supplies used to give patients sponge bathes so you can at least look presentable on the way to the showers.

Fuck it. You might just go straight to your bike and go home. You have Nolan this evening anyway, and chances are you won't have a new case now until after the weekend. Yeah, home sounds good.

After cleanup. You pull Allison to you for one more kiss and whisper in her ear the words you had been struggling with for so long, which now seem so easy. "I do love you. I know I can be a jerk, but I am _your_ jerk."

"I love you too, Greg. But this can't keep happening during work."

You nod in agreement, knowing damn well it will happen again. When you need her, she can't say no to you. Honestly, you can't say no to her now either. It's comforting and disturbing and something to talk about with Nolan later this evening.


	26. 51 and 1

_Note: Thanks to atavares for whipping me into shape again!_

* * *

Chapter 26: 51 and 1

You knock on the door frame, more than a little early, but since his door is open, you assume his last appointment ended early or was a no show. Glancing in, you see Nolan at his desk and upon hearing your knock, he looks up and motions you in with his hand and turns back to his screen. "Have a seat, House. I'm just finishing up an email, I'll just be a minute. Glad your early, my last patient canceled at the last minute and you are my last appointment."

You have a seat, pour yourself a glass of water and take a sip as you look around his office for any changes. He did get some new art in the lobby, and you wondered if there was anything of note here.

It's been almost a year since you checked into rehab at Mayfield. Sunday, the day after your birthday, marks the official date. You stopped thinking about your birthday years ago and so no one around you ever does, so not even Wilson seemed to make a big deal of your spending the day before your birthday crazed out of your mind; the actual date believing you had slept with Cuddy, and your own warped mind enjoying the idea of it as a little birthday present. Turning the half century mark and changing your life, finally hooking up with the woman you thought you loved, but were too strung out to want to pull into your fucked up life.

For the better part of a day, you really believed it, only to have your whole world crash as you hit rock bottom. The day after your birthday, Wilson drove you to Mayfield. That day changed you nearly as much as the infarction. Thankfully pushing you upward again. Back toward happy.

It seems like a lifetime ago. But only a year.

Nolan gets up from his desk and walks over to sit again in front of you, across from the round glass coffee table. He picks up the yellow note pad and pen, crosses his legs and sits back. "You look good, House."

"I feel good." You confirm.

"You're coming up on a year clean. That's a big landmark."

"Yeah, this time last year I was high as a kite in an imagined detox and about to have sex with an hallucination of my boss. I'd say getting clean for real and getting regular sex with a real woman is definitely a step up."

"So things are still going well with you and Allison?"

"They are. We've decided to buy a house together and make things official."

"Wow. That _is_ a big deal. What's the big hurry?"

"She was going to start looking for a house anyway, even before we started dating. Her place was a temporary solution and barely works for one person over the age of 22. Two grown adults with two lifetimes worth of stuff is just too much. I've barely been back at Wilson's apartment since Allison gave me a key. I don't want to move back to my place and I don't want to live with Wilson once Sam moves in. I figured if we are living together anyway, why not do it right. Sell my place, which I don't need or want to go back to, put our money together and get a really nice place, instead of me just coming along for the ride again. It's one thing to do that with Wilson, but it seemed all wrong to take that route with Allison."

"So, this is definitely more than a sexual attraction then?"

"Well, she _is_ hot as hell. And there is this thing she does while she is on top that is just…"

"After all of this, why can't you just admit how you feel about her? Why do you have to side-step expressing your feelings verbally? Obviously you enjoy expressing them physically." He sits back with a cocky grin. "Or maybe, there are problems there you are trying to avoid facing."

"Hey!" Sitting up, you look him in the eye, knowing the last part was a tease, but you play along. "There are _no_ problems with the sex. In fact I am rather proud of how well Little Greg is performing at his age. Just this afternoon, he did a double."

Serious again, he continues to work you "Last session you said that you weren't sure whether you loved her or were reacting to the honeymoon phase. Has that changed?"

Always needing to evade before you really open up with him is a defensive mechanism you can't seem to break down. It's a comforting routine. After a little dance, you become more comfortable and start to open up and decide to recount the trip. Laugh about Tommy's kissing question. Explain the whole traumatic deal with your mother's secret marriage to the guy you were sure was your sperm donor, only he wasn't and how expertly Allison manipulated the entire situation.

You tell him how comfortable you've become with her now, outlining the little things like how easy it has been to migrate your things to her place and how well you seem to fit together. You tell him how proud you are of her, how she solved your last case. She has learned to think like you now, but reacts so differently and you respect that she hasn't lost herself after everything she has seen and been through. She calms you. You tell him you've decided to let yourself love her. And he grants you a real smile.

"Actually, I think buying a house together is a good thing. It shows you are ready to really commit to something and someone other than Wilson or your medical puzzles. Fast as it is, it might be one of the more healthy decisions you've made. As far as selling your place, the longer you keep your old place, the greater the odds you'll end up living there again and there is a reason they tell addicts to stay away from old geography. Again, a good thing."

"Okay. Well, I didn't expect that." You say, surprised with his acceptance of everything.

"Everyone's needs are different. There is no one right path when there are so many factors at play. A lot of things are lining up for you. Ignoring them because of some sort of arbitrary waiting period is no better than trying to force things to fall into line."

Sitting up, he puts down the note pad and starts talking more with his hands.

"Wilson is moving on. If you were still completely dependant on his sole support, Sam moving in could be a major setback for you. But you aren't. You are in a relationship with a woman who, at least by your accounts and from what I've observed, loves you and supports you and isn't in the dark about your struggles or your personality. You know her well and care deeply for her. In other words, you are in a healthy relationship."

He's right. You don't understand it at all, but she does love you, but so much more than that, she understands who you are. She loved you at your lowest before you could love her at all and she loves you now as your life seems to be finally righting itself. You do love her now and you get her, even though you don't always understand how she can be so nice and caring. You understand that is who she is and you respect it now because you know it isn't the easy path but she chooses it eyes wide open over and over again.

Feeling a little giddy you tell him about all the house, even tell him he should come visit once you are settled in, maybe you'll have a house warming party.

The year anniversary makes you wonder about the other patients for the first time in forever, and Nolan tells you what he can legally, which isn't much, but you get a good idea about who is making it and who isn't at least.

You tell him the rest of the Alvie story and he is amused and relieved. It's a good session.

* * *

You drive back to Princeton feeling high as a kite. It's been almost two months since you decided to just give the strange connection between you and Cameron a chance to become something more. The ride back tonight flies by just as fast as the night you decided to give this thing a shot. You are only moderately surprised to find yourself back at the little bar on Nassau Street.

As you walk up to the window you look in and see, in the same little nook, your lover and her friend laughing and drinking. It feels like you are in sync. It's supposed to be her girls' night out, but you are overcome with the need to be near her. So you walk in, buy a beer at the bar and head back to join the two women.

"Wanna get a table, ladies?" You ask.

Looking up, Allison flashes you a surprised smile. "Fancy meeting you here. Your session end early?" She says glancing down to her phone for the time.

"Yep. Hey Rebecca. On parole tonight?"

"More like an escape. Tyler is distracting the guards with cookie baking and movie night."

"That's very domestic of him."

"He's a way better girl than I am. He bakes, I play with power tools, it's a win win. Plus he doesn't seem to mind getting stuck watching _Monsters vs Aliens_ again. I mean, it was great... the first _fifty_ times I saw it." She rolls her eyes and takes a drink.

Smiling, you lay your Dr. Cockroach impersonation on her. "Oh, Rebecca. Might you happen to have a little uranium on you? Just a smidge."

"Man, if the Doctor thing stops working out for you, you've got a real future working kids' birthday parties. That was pretty dead on. And at this point, I think I qualify as an expert. So anyway, let's get a table."

The place is packed, but you luck out as a group of four leaves, allowing you to snag their table. Maybe you shouldn't be busting in on their girls night, but you can't stand the idea of going home alone right now for some reason and neither of them seem to mind. In fact you have found a surprise friend in Rebecca. She's smart, has a razor sharp wit, and a mind as deeply entrenched in the gutter as yours. Her social filter is better than yours, but only just. She's blunt, but not an asshole. Basicly a lot like you minus the misanthropic bastard part. Apparently Allison has a type.

You've been impressed with her at work as well. Normally you don't give nurses the time of day, but she is a rule breaker and a keen observer of medicine. She often times, and rightfully, corrects ER doctors, takes risks, and oversteps her bounds and she is usually right. She's also only about six credit hours shy of being a practitioner. Having kids pushed that career milestone back indefinitely, but it wouldn't take much to finish it. She'd be fucking great on your team, though you might have to fight your girlfriend to get her, if there was ever the opportunity to hire her.

It doesn't take long for the conversation to go completely south. Rebecca relays college sex stories freely and boisterously. You're amused at how animated she is, currently mimicking a man by air jacking while she gives you a detailed account of a particularly funny come shot.

"So he pulls out and is finishing himself porn style and two seconds later he shoots his load right into my ear! Totally by accident, I mean he's doing well to hit the boobs normally. He turned white and was terrified I was going to yell at him, because I don't do come shots to the face. It's silent for a few seconds while I process what the hell just happened then I just start laughing my ass off! Told him 'You wouldn't've been able to do that on purpose in a million years so you totally get a free pass.' Because honestly, it was a fucking epic distance and a total bullseye in the center of my right ear!"

Yeah. Your kind of person.

Allison is crying she is laughing so hard, and you are torn between laughing and being turned on by the mental picture, but mostly you are laughing.

Rebecca is hot, but doesn't primp, it's definitely tomboy hot. With little makeup and her dark hair nearly always pulled up in a ponytail, she puts off this air with you and other men that lands her in sister territory more often than not. Not that all those men don't still think about fucking her, men are men, yourself included, but it is clear, despite her openness about sex, that she is a one man girl.

"So what the hell was up with the mid-day booty call today? I want details and I expect favors in return from both of you." She tells you both, tossing the conversation ball in your court.

"Well, Allison has my permission to give you sexual favors anytime so long as I can watch." You wiggle your brows at her.

"Well it's only fair if her husband gets to watch too." Allison responds seriously enough that your dick pulses, but your chest feels a strange heaviness. Oh yes, the two of them would be lava hot in bed together, but fuck any other man getting to see Allison naked and coming. Yeah, you guess Rebecca's husband would probably want to punch you for bringing it up too.

Then again, she's pretty open minded, maybe he is too.

Nope, there'll be no opening that pandora's box. Not when you have low maintenance professionals you can call.

"Way to kill the mood." You play it off, and take a big drink of your beer. But you are having a hard time shaking the sudden jealousy.

"As fun as that sounds, I was thinking more along the lines of a guaranteed four day weekend next month for our anniversary. Ten years. And, if you you really appreciate me, you could toss in babysitting so we can remember what it is like to actually have uninterrupted sex."

Normally you'd run, well limp quickly, from the idea of being strapped with someone's kids for four days, but you suddenly really want to play house with Allison and see how it goes. As much to see if you can do it, as to prove to her that you can.

"Well the vacation days I can do, but we won't be in the new house by then, so the babysitting is going to be a challenge." She expertly deflects, and you are sure for your sake.

"Not if we house sit for them too." You chime in.

Rebecca eyes you with surprise, raising a single eyebrow. "You'd seriously do that? Because I was mostly joking about that part. Not the days off part." She looks to Allison and points. "You are totally giving me those, but yeah, if you really want to, I'll totally take it. If not, I completely understand." She finishes, providing you a door to back out. But you want to do this.

You look over at Allison and she knows you're serious. She raises her eyebrows and gives you a lopsided grin before looking back to her friend. "Yeah. We don't mind."

Quickly feeling emotionally exposed, you joke "Mainly because we are going to need your services again down the road." dancing around any real reason you have for acting so far off character.

"God, I miss sex." Rebecca laments as she drinks the last of her beer and signals to the waiter for another round. "I'll just have to be happy living vicariously through you guys for a while. You probably have at least another year of mind-blowing sex until all the newness wears off and sleep becomes more important. And if you decide to have kids, you'll get to learn about the real meaning of 'having a quicky.'"

There, she did it. Brought up the 'K' word. You avoid Allison's eyes now, out of fear of making the situation suddenly awkward.

"You should have your husband come by for lunch some time. I'd run interference for you if you happened to need to give him a tour of the supply closet." You offer, honestly happy to help most anyone get laid. Especially if they are breaking lots of rules to do it.

"Yeah. _I'd_ be down with that, but _Tyler_ is, well, he'd be mortified that I am talking so bluntly about our sex life. I mean he knows I do. He married me, but he gets more conservative about sex talk the longer we are together and I just keep not giving a shit who knows I like to fuck my husband. Or how I like to fuck him, for that matter. So as fun as it sounds to me, I don't think having a sex hook-up, at work, with someone knowing we're in there fucking, would sit well with him. But it was sweet of you to offer." She says sincerely as if you were offering to water a plant for her or something.

Now that is a fucking waste, you think, but to each their own. She loves him, you can tell by the way her eyes light up when she talks about him. That look gets lost so many times that you find it hard to even believe in marriage. Being around someone who seems to be happy and making it work, gives you hope. But damn, the sex thing blows.

The night ends fairly early for a weekend, since having kids works that way, and you each head your separate ways around ten thirty. Allison had rode to the bar with Rebecca, so you give her your helmet as she hops on the bike behind you. She feels so good wrapped around you, your mind starts to drift toward thoughts of being naked, but your dick says, 'Sorry dude, no more fun today. I'm 51 fucking years old in a couple of hours and you abused me this afternoon.'

You talk her into staying up and watching some classic spaghetti westerns on Netflix. You love Clint Eastwood and you are in the mood for some reason. She lies with her head in your lap and you stroke her soft hair. "I think Clint Eastwood is sexy. Actually, I think you look like him a bit. Maybe he's your dad?" She teases. "Same eyes. Similar nose. He rocks the unshaven look. I mean, who could blame your mom if she hit that."

"As cool as that would be, I'd rather not think about Mom 'hitting' anyone."

"I'm going to talk to her about it. You have a right to know who your father really is. I know you, and if I leave it to you, you'll either chicken out or make a scene. So just leave it to me, okay?"

"Knock yourself out. Just please don't share if she gets all misty eyed and relays some sort of _Bridges of Madison County_ love affair story to you. There are some things a son should never know about his mother."

* * *

You lie awake and watch her in the soft light that bleeds through the window shades from the street lamp outside. Lying on her side facing you, she looks so impossibly young. No makeup, not that she wears a lot in the day, but with none, you see every little freckle, the soft pink color of her lips. The softness of her features in sleep make her look far too young and you suddenly feel like a really dirty old man.

'Stop it!' You mentally scold yourself. 'She's nearly 31. There is nothing dirty about it.'

You reach out and tuck a strand of hair that has fallen across her face behind her ear. A thousand emotions seem to be plaguing you tonight and disrupting your sleep. Love. Protectiveness. Fear. Jealousy. Pride. Curiousity. For once, lust isn't among them.

Maybe it's because she looks so young, you begin wonder what your children might look like. Would they have her fair skin and adorable freckles? Would they have your blue eyes or her chameleon hazel? The soft curves of her little nose or the harder lines of yours? Your dark hair or her fair? Would a daughter end up looking naturally like the young Dr. Cameron who dyed her hair darker, probably because she thought it would make people respect her more, or more like grown up Allison, blond and confident? Maybe they'd pick up a ton of pass through traits and look more like one of your parents.

It occurs to you that you don't even know what her parents look like. She never put up photos here and apparently left her albums in storage. You have yet to figure out her phone's pass phrase so no snooping there either. Maybe you should actually friend her on Facebook. Wonder if she has even told them about you?

You'll ask her about it tomorrow, well, today. Closing your eyes you try again to quiet your mind and wait for sleep.

When sleep comes it is filled with vivid dreams. A recurring theme of late, they seem to include a mix of Cameron, your young employee, and Allison, your girlfriend and lover. Tonight you are in your new home, cooking for her. She sits watching you. It is domestic and comforting. You serve her and you are back in the DDX room. She sits at the head of the long table, dark hair down, in her red dress from the fundraiser and her lab coat over the back of the chair. Placing the food in front of her, she looks up and smiles, but then looks confused when she meets your eyes.

You look outside to the hallway and see a man. You know him from somewhere, but you can't seem to place it. Turning back around, you write symptoms on the board:

Insomnia

Anxiety

Abnormal Dreams

Agitation

"So which of you is Dr. House?" A man asks from behind you.

Allison, who is standing right beside you at the board, answers as you turn around to see who is asking. "I'm Dr. House."

In a flash you see him raise a gun, hear the bang and smell the power. You whip your head to Allison. You ears a ringing from the sound. Where is she? Looking down you see her surrounded by a pool of red, lying in the floor. Your heart starts pounding and your mouth feels dry. Her beautiful blond hair is laying out peacefully around her head, but no life is in her eyes.

"No! Allison!" You awaking sitting up with a start, breathing hard and fast, shirt soaked with sweat.

"Are you okay?" Allison sits up and puts a hand on your arm. "Jesus, Greg! You're soaked."

The dream was so vivid, you are overwhelmed with surprise when she touches you and then flooded with relief. You try to explain, still panting. "I'm okay. I dreamt… I dreamt you were shot… because of me… because you took my name."

She works her way to sit behind you and wraps her arms and legs around you, not caring that you are drenched. "Shhh, babe. I'm not dead. I'm right here. You're fine. It was just a bad dream."

You wrap your arms around hers, effectively hugging yourself and the two of you stay like that for a long time until your breathing regulates. Slowly untangling herself from you, she sends you to shower while she changes the sheets.

The cool water helps calm you and settles your mind. Going through the cabinet, you grab the melatonin she uses to help her day sleep when working the night shift and pop three in your mouth and chew. Maybe that will help you sleep.

Back in bed, you pull her to you and hold her tightly, kissing her gently, terrified with of the idea of being without her now. "I'm here, Greg. I'm fine. You're fine. I love you." She tells you between kisses.

A restful sleep finally takes you and you wake up with her still in your arms. A wave of relief floods over you. What a fucking night!

"Hey there." She calls to you quietly, snuggling up to you even more. "Happy birthday."

"It is now." You tell her, then plant a kiss on top her head.

"Wanna go get breakfast?" She asks you as she trails her fingers lightly over your chest. "I heard that place on the corner, The Roundabout, started having a weekend breakfast/brunch menu. It's getting good ratings on Yelp."

"Sure. Sounds good." You tell her, but don't make an effort to move for a long time. She feels too good right now, and she seems to feel the same way you do.

* * *

You do finally rise, both getting dressed in jeans and tees, and take a short walk to The Roundabout. It is a beautiful warm and sunny day for your birthday. So much so, you don't need your jackets. You beat the brunch rush and are able to get a table quickly and the food comes out nearly as fast.

"Your mom called me yesterday and asked if we could pick her and Thomas up at the airport. They decided to take a trip to Scotland after they visit, so it doesn't make sense to drive now, since their connecting flight would end up being out of Newark anyway. It was going to cost an arm and a leg to rent a car for the weekend, so I told them to just use mine and we'd drive yours."

Rolling your eyes, you pretend to be annoyed with her kindness, but it actually makes you very happy to know that your mother and girlfriend seem to be getting along and have been planning your birthday together. "When do we need to be there?"

"Their flight gets in at one thirty." She answers and takes a bite of a short stack of pancakes that you ordered for her. You'll be damned if she eats a bunch of fruit and granola at your birthday breakfast and you use the holiday to your advantage telling her as much.

You dip a finger in her syrup and suck it slowly off your finger while she watches. "Mmmmmm. But not nearly as good on pancakes as it is your tight little ass cakes."

"Or as it is on Not-so-little Greg." She agrees, licking her lips.

Oh Wilson would die if he knew how you laid her across his counter. Topped her ass cheeks with strawberries, powdered sugar and maple syrup and licked it all off, in between bites of french toast, then drizzled the syrup on your cock so she could suck it clean right before you sat her on the counter, fucked her and filled her with a special cream of your own.

It was after your third night together. Wilson probably never came home, but you had assumed he'd just left early for work, since you had no idea he was with Sam at the time. Once you had confirmed Wilson wasn't there, Allison was happy to parade around naked with you for breakfast.

"In our new house, I think we should have one day a week dedicated to naked breakfast." You tell her.

"I think that can be arranged." Smiling, she returns her focus to eating. And you take a drink of your coffee, before sopping up your runny eggs with french toast and stuffing your mouth with a bite you can barely chew. Breakfast really is the best meal.

* * *

You get home to find a package dropped at the front of the apartment door. Smirking at one another, you unlock the door as she bends down to pick it up. The box is void of any branding simply marked for shipping. Sex toys. Has to be.

Heading straight to the kitchen area, Allison deposits the box on the counter. "Looks like you have your first present. Gonna open it now?"

"I dunno. Shouldn't I open all the presents at the party?" You tease.

"Sure. And your mother and I can discuss anal and maybe that will open the door to ask her who your biological father is."

"Hey. I was not conceived in my mother's ass! You're a doctor, you should know that."

Leaning forward on the counter, with a sly grin on her lips, she counters "Yeah, but maybe that's where John House got it all wrong."

Damn, she has been spending way too much time with you. You visibly shudder. "Wow. I don't think I've ever been this turned off in my life, much less while opening a box of sex toys." You dig into your pocket, retrieve the small pocket knife, sit down on a bar stool, then open the blade and cut the tape sealing the box.

Yep. A box full of fun. You take out the cop outfit and toss the package to your girlfriend. "Go try it on, make sure it fits and looks hot on you. If it doesn't, we can return it."

You pull out the purple double penetrator cockring next, while she heads to the bedroom. Damn. This is going to be fun. Placing it on the counter, you take out the last package. The vibrating butt plug with double cockring. The thought occurs to you that, the way these things are made, you could use them both at the same time. Fuck. Tonight is going to be the best birthday sex ever.

You open each package and inspect the toys while you wait for Allison to return.

A few moments later she stands beside you, not in her new outfit, and you have to say you are disappointed. "Not fit?" You ask.

"Oh, it fits and it looks hot. But it needs to be ironed and when I let you see me in it, I'm going to want to have plenty of time to properly interrogate you." Shooting you a very naughty look, she adds "It came with a set of handcuffs."

"I came with a set of handcuffs once. Fun times." You wink. She smiles back, then picks up the butt plug.

"I think a body cavity search might be in order later." She beams as she holds the toy up. Then placing it back down she take the double penetrator in hand. "And this. I can't wait for you to fuck me with this."

"See, this is why you shouldn't be so nice. I could go fuck you with it right now if you hadn't decided you just _had_ to save my mother a couple hundred bucks on a car rental. She can afford it, by the way." You pull her into you by her belt loops.

Placing her arms around your neck, toy still in hand, she replies "Yeah, but the anticipation will just make the sex better." then kisses you.

* * *

After dropping your car off at your apartment, you and Allison head to the Newark Airport to pick up your mother and Thomas. Meeting you at the curb, Allison jumps out and greets your mother with a hug, then grabs her bags and heads toward the trunk. You wait behind the wheel, so you can make a quick retreat as Thomas and Allison pack away the luggage and then exchange a hug of their own.

Your mother gets in the car behind you and Thomas behind Allison, and you head back towards Princeton.

"Happy birthday, Greg! I can't believe my baby is turning 51!" You mother sighs as she reaches forward in seat and gives your arm a little squeeze.

"You guys hungry?" Allison asks. "We had a late breakfast, so we'll probably grab a light lunch somewhere if you want to join us."

"That's nice of you dear," your mother replies "but we had lunch at Logan before our flight. I think we'll just get settled and see you at the restaurant. Are we still meeting at six at the Blue Point Grill?"

"Yep. That's still the plan. You need directions? I can program it into the GPS before we leave. It'll pick back up when you turn the car on and start driving."

"Thank you, Allison, that sounds fine."

Allison keeps the small talk flowing as you make the hour long drive back to Princeton. You drop them off and see them into your old apartment where you give them a mini tour and find out that Allison has already stocked the fridge and marvel at how neat everything looks now that it is straightened and free of boxes.

You leave your company in the bedroom to unpack. passing by the bookshelf and desk that flanks the entry way you see _Approach to the Acute Abdomen_ laying out on the desk. Picking it up you flip through the pages.

"I came across that last night." Allison informs you. "Is Ernest T. Cuddy any relation to Lisa?" She asks you.

"Yeah. He's her great-grandfather. I bought this to give to her; it's a really rare publication. Just never had the right moment." Your voice seems far away as you think about Cuddy. You need to just close the book on the thing between you. You still aren't sure why it is so hard. You don't want her now, but you do care. You don't want to hurt her and some part of you knows that, despite everything, she will be hurt with your moving on.

Closing the book. That's it. "You know, we should give this to Cuddy and Lucas as a housewarming present. From both of us."

"I think that sounds nice." She says and stands tip toed to kiss your cheek. "Take it back to my place. We'll inscribe it later. Maybe we can talk to her when we go back in on Tuesday. Just get it over with already and move on."

With that you snap the book shut, nod, yell a "see you later" to your mother and Thomas, and head home.

* * *

Your birthday dinner is actually turning out to be fun. Allison surprised you by inviting not only Wilson and Sam, but also Gabe and his family as well as Rebecca and hers. It was a sort of surreal family experience that you have only ever seen on TV or in the movies, your own family being on the move far too often for this sort of extended family birthday.

Christmas was a big deal, but thanks to your father, you barely knew your aunts, uncles and cousins; certainly weren't friends with them and never found anything of substance in common with them.

But this, a table full of people here for you. People who like you, even love you, that is something you'd never thought was in your cards.

You sit in the center of one side of the wide side of the table. Tommy, apparently your new best buddy, takes the seat to your left and Allison sits on your right. Your mother and Thomas across from you, Mariana, Gabe their right. Jon sits next to Allison, confirming your observation that he has the stronger bond with her between the boys. Wilson and Sam sit to the left of Tommy. To the left of your parents and the right of Allison, wrapping around the head of the table are Rebecca, Tyler and their two kids, a daughter 7 years old and a son 4 years old.

Allison stands up and gets the attention of everyone at the table. Being tucked against the back wall of the restaurant gives you a little privacy, but she still has to raise her voice to speak over the bustling noises of the restaurant. "I'd like to propose a toast. To Greg, 51 years old today and one year vicodin free tomorrow. I'm really glad you've let me be a part of your life and I hope to get to spend many more birthdays with you."

She drinks and everyone follows with applause and here heres as she sits back down, and plants a kiss on the scruff of your cheek. You aren't one for this sort of display. It makes you uncomfortable really, but as always, her open love for you chips away at the wall you've built, letting more light in a crack at a time. Still you feel you need to break up the mood and add "And now, let's move on to the birthday loot!"

Everyone laughs and Allison starts gathering up the cards and packages from the others. Tommy leans over and whispers in your ear. "Geez, House. I knew you were old, but 51? You could totally be Aunt Allison's dad… Stud! Your advice worked by the way. And you're right, French kissing isn't gross."

With that, you belly laugh and noogy his head. "Damn straight, kid."

You aren't a read your cards aloud kind of guy, so you just open each and read them to yourself with a nod each of givers. Then you take the first of the packages. It's from Wilson and Sam. "I… um, I didn't know there were going to be kids… so um… maybe you should open that later." He says, fumbling embarrassed now that he realises you are actually going to open the gifts publicly. Yeah, you are as surprised by it as much as he is, but now, after that comment how can you not open it!

"Oh, now I have to see! Pst. Tommy. Close your eyes." You wink at him and he rolls his eyes back to you. Ripping the paper off, you find a cookbook. An erotic cookbook. Fun! You are even more amused at his comment now, given the ages of the kids at the table. Two are too young to get it at all, and the other two are old enough to know about sex. Maybe if Allison's family were super Jesus freaks, it would be weird, but as it is, it is just funny to watch Wilson squirm.

Tommy looks over your arm at the book and reads "The New InterCourses: An Aphrodisiac Cookbook."

"Yep. Cook your girl one of these dinners when you want to french kiss her." You waggle your eyebrows at him.

He leans in and whispers to you again. "If I have to cook, she'd better do more than kiss."

"Down, tiger." You tell him. "It's not all fun and games." Yeah, totally needs the sex talk yesterday.

Wilson is still beat red. It's adorable, really, especially since he did it to himself. Allison hands you the next present, from your mother and Thomas. It's a heavy present for it's size. You rip off the paper to find a large book inside. An album by the looks of it.

"It's a scrapbook I made of your childhood." Thomas pipes in. "I thought you might like to have those memories as you start making new ones in your new home with Allison. The second two thirds of the book is still blank. So that Allison can add her childhood memories and then you both can start adding things as a you spend your lives together."

Wow. He's a romantic. So incredibly different from the man you called Father. You again have a twinge of regret that this man wasn't your dad. You always liked him growing up. Maybe being around a man who can freely share his emotional side would have made it easier for you. It bothers you your mother hid the marriage from you, but you haven't been any better sharing the rest of your life with her. You need to change that.

"Thank you." You say sincerely and start working hard to recover your game face. Allison saves you.

"Here. Last one's from me." She shoves a small gift into your hand with a wink and you rip into the paper to find an iPhone 4.

"But there is nothing wrong with my phone." You whine to her. Teasing of course, but yet there is a part of you that hates throwing out something that works just because it is old.

"Nope, but with this it's one less thing to carry since since you can put plenty of music on here as well. I got the 32gig just for that. I already migrated your iTunes library from your Mac, added your contacts and programed your speed dial. All you need to do is take it by your carrier and get an updated sim card and you are good to go."

You pull it out of the packaging and start playing around with it. "Oh hell yes. You added Angry Birds already too!" Now that earns her a kiss. Putting the phone down you lean over and kiss her. Slowly, with a publicly acceptable amount of tongue, you think. If not, you don't really give a shit.

Your moment is broken a few seconds later by a familiar voice. "House?"

Cuddy.

Damn. You think as you pull back an inch and open your eyes to look into a pair that is filled with a matching dread.

"Hey Lisa." You uncharacteristically use her first name, hoping that will somehow soften things. Turning your head finally, you see her standing behind your mother, with Lucas beside her, holding Rachel on his hip. A picture of a family man.

"Lucas." You continue.

"Hey House." He answers back with his goofy smile.

"We're having a little birthday shindig. Wanna pull up a chair and join us?" You invite, with a smile, completely as a bluff. The look on her face makes it clear, they won't be joining you.

"Allison." She nods to your girlfriend, still with a controlled look. But you know her. She's shocked and pissed. Obviously she has been left out of the loop. A loop that involves at least two of her other employees sitting at the same table. Wilson makes awkward eye contact with her, looking guilty as sin. Rebecca, just raises her glass to the intruders with a smile, then takes a swig of beer.

"Hey Lisa! Lucas." Allison replies, remaining outwardly cool, despite your knowing better. "Wow, Rachel has really grown! Yeah, Greg's right. You should pull up a couple of chairs and join us. You know Greg's mom, Blythe." She raises a hand toward your mother and Cuddy shakes your mother's hand followed by Lucas.

"It's nice to see you again Lisa. This is my husband, Thomas Bell." She introduces and Cuddy puts her game face fully on, shakes his hand and exchanges pleasantries. Continuing Allison moves on to her family "This is my brother Gabe." They nod. "His wife Mariana." More nods. "And their two boys, Jonathan and Tommy." She continues on, "You know Rebecca, and this is her husband Tyler and their kids Abby and Dylan." More curt nods and handshakes are exchanged.

Putting on the same professional face she uses on rich donors, Cuddy politely answers "Thanks for the invitation, but we just ate and we're beat. We just moved my stuff from my old place to our new house and decided to take a break from unpacking and have a dinner out to celebrate. I happen to see you out of the corner of my eye as we were leaving, and thought I'd come tell you Happy Birthday."

"I dunno, Lisa." Lucas chimes in for the first time. "It looks like a fun party to crash. You sure you don't wanna stay for a little while?"

"I'm really tired, Lucas. I think we should just head back home." She gives him the Cuddy look.

Well you know who wears the pants in that family. As if there was any doubt. Lucas concedes, obviously a little disappointed. "Okay. I guess I'll catch you later House. Allison. Everybody else, it was nice to meet you."

With that they turn to leave. Wilson lets out a breath he must have been holding. "Oh, boy. That's not good."

"She'll get over it." You say coolly. But inside you're not so calm. The air is palatable and though not everyone at the table knows your history, they all can sense the tension that was generated by Cuddy's intrusion.

You feel a hand on your knee. "You okay?" Allison asks.

"Yeah. Just peachy." Making no effort to bite back your sarcasm, you start scanning the room for a waiter. Fuck beer. You need a real drink.

"Hey, buddy, can a guy get a drink in this place?!" You yell across two tables to your waiter. Allison's hand tightens a bit around your knee and you shoot her a warning glare. You see the hurt expression there, but she says nothing. Fuck it. You'll deal with the fallout later.

The waiter approaches. "Scotch. Neat." you bid him and he retreats to fetch it.

Mind still racing over the hurt you saw in Cuddy's eyes and unsure about the feelings that look has dredged up in the pit of your stomach, you command yourself to put your game face back on. Five minutes ago you were having fun at the first real birthday party you can remember having in forever.

Your drink comes and you chug it back, turning back to Allison with a sly grin. "So anyway, where were we?" You ask and then lean in to kiss her again, hoping the act will bring you some sort of relief. She tilts her head to allow you a peck on the lips but, though you try to deepen the kiss, she pulls back just slightly.

So much for your perfect birthday night.

You open your eyes to find hurt in hers. But she quickly put on a smile that doesn't reach her eyes and turns back to your guests. "So, Thomas, tell us about the trip you're planning to Scotland."

Fuck.


	27. Purple Rain

_Notes: So again with some writer's block when I started off on this chapter but I gutted through it once more with the support of atavares. And again, once we worked through it, I came out happy on the other side with a really long chapter. I hope you enjoy it too. Either way you know what to do about it. :P_

 _Oh and the second sex scene, as you may guessed, has our fun anal toys in play. If that's not your thing, then just skip on past it to the next horizontal rule and know they had lots of fun and amazing orgasms. (As if Hameron sex can be bad. I am pretty sure there is a law against that somewhere.)_

 _And a little shout out to Prince in the title. What a huge fucking loss to the planet._

* * *

 **Chapter 27: Purple Rain**

It's like suddenly you're caught smack dab in the middle of the plot of a bad romcom.

The party manages to recover, because normal people know how to not let a bump in the road destroy a perfectly great party, but you haven't felt this awkward with Allison in years. Then, no sooner do you get to your car after dinner, the sky darkens and by the time you reach home it's become a deluge. Of course, you don't keep an umbrella in your car. Allison would have one in hers, but that only benefits your mother at the moment.

Allison has not said a word to you the whole drive home and now, as you sit parked and trapped by the rain, you wonder which is worse, getting soaked to the bone to get away, or having to talk. The silence can only last so long. She can't possibly be mad at you. You had your moment, when your emotions flared. You wanted to just drown yourself in scotch but you calmed back down and left it at one drink. No, this is worse than mad.

"Normally, I'd jump on this fine opportunity to make out, but something tells me that's not going to happen."

"No. Probably not." She answers simply, still with her elbow propped on the door, chin in hand, staring out into the dark rain.

"I'm not very good at this, but you need to talk to me. I feel like I did something wrong, but all I did was get blind sided on my birthday." You say as you stare at the steering wheel.

You hear her sigh. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Certain you know the answer, the question needs to be asked. "So then why the silent treatment?"

Without looking at you she answers. "I just can't shake the feeling that Cuddy suddenly would rather be with you than Lucas. And I see it bothers you that her finding out this way hurt her. Not that that is a bad thing. It's actually comforting on some level when I see I'm right about you not being the heartless bastard you want everyone to think you are. I know you care about her. I know you may even still be in love with her. I've looked in the mirror and seen the looks on both your faces in my own before. But now, I just wonder where this leaves me."

"And your natural defense mechanism is to detach or run." You are reminded of the moment she gave up on pursuing you—when Stacy came back. She saw how you looked at Stacy and knew then you still loved her, so Allison put your feelings above her own and walked away.

The idea of her doing that now makes your stomach knot and dread wells up inside you.

"Don't. Don't do that to me. You're right. I can't just turn my feelings off like a switch. But, Allison, this thing we have is really good."

You turn to look at her, but she still stares out into the rain. Almost as if she is afraid of what she'll see if she meets your eyes. "Allison. Look at me." You softly command her and she turns her head slowly, to finally look at you.

"Please don't read more into what happend tonight than it is. It's just an old wound that needs more time to heal." You plead to her and hope she sees what she needs to in your eyes, but the look in hers breaks your heart. You haven't seen that look in years. You had never wanted for her to look at you this way again.

You turn away now, your own eyes starting to burn. It's still pouring. The sound of the rain against the car fills the interior with a heavy white noise. How can you make her understand? Do you even really understand what it is you feel for Cuddy? It doesn't even seem like a fight to you. Not anymore. This past month with Allison has been one of the best stretches you've had. She's easy to be with. She makes you happy.

Still.

She is right. There is some part of the door still not shut between you and Cuddy. You almost wish you had chosen to go out into the rain. Let the pounding water pour over you and drown you.

Maybe it's time to just tell her the whole thing. Not that there is much to tell, but she should know the story, none the less.

"You remember that time you found me in the men's shower tripping acid?"

"Yeah. Of course I remember." You look over at her now and she gives you a small smile.

"How could I forget seeing you nearly naked and all wet. I assumed you were just teasing me. Then I realized you were tripping and I was reminded that I had the hots for an irresponsible jerk. I reported you to Cuddy. By the time she talked to you, you were magically sober. It had something to do with some guest lecturer that you went to med school with that had a questionable treatment for migraine headaches as I recall. You didn't like the guy and wanted to prove he did a shitty study."

Her smile, and teasing tone, put you a little more at ease. And you half smile back.

"Something like that. He was the person who reported me for cheating to the board at Johns Hopkins. I was hoping to fuck his carreer for revenge. I don't know how much you know about any of my medical school story."

"I know you were kicked out of Johns Hopkins. I know you lost the Mayo Clinic internship because of it. I heard you had to repeat your last year of medical school, but ended up having to do it at Michigan because of some kind of academic misconduct. Then you did your internship there and completed your specialties there as well." She answers, patiently waiting to see where you are leading her.

"That's the story, more or less. I partied a lot in college. I took light loads so it was easy to keep really high grades. Sometimes, I would _glance_ at a neighbor's test when I spent the night before occupied with matters other than study. This is the blessing and the curse of a genius mind. I get things the first or second time I read them. So cheating just sometimes felt like late studying, because once I copied the answer, I would know the answer going forward. The only tricky part was making sure to pick the right person to cheat from, so I knew the answer would be right." You laugh at the memory, you thought you had everything all figured out. Like you always do. Anyway, no time to get sidetracked.

"But anyway, that isn't really the point of this story. I had a part time job at the Michigan University Bookstore while I was waiting to find out what my fate was with Johns Hopkins. Either I'd have to repeat the last year of med school or I'd continue my internship. I was confident they would rule in my favor at the time. So I was content spending a few weeks working there and hitting on chicks that came into get their course books. Cuddy was an undergrad there. She came in to the bookstore and that's how I met her.

"I sized up her schedule and decided that she was obviously the quintessential straight A party girl, so my kind of girl. All business in the day, all fun at night. I even told her as much. We hit it off and not long afterward, ended up sleeping together. I actually really liked her.

"I had it all worked out the next day. How I would ask her out again. Where I'd take her. The things I wanted to do to her afterward. Then the call came and I got the news I had to repeat the last year of medical school. My whole world turned on its ear in a second. I had to drop everything. My internship had to be put on hold. Luckily, Michigan allowed me to transfer and repeat my year there to finish my MD. But I withdrew from everything not related to my school work then. My goofing off had completely screwed me, so I stopped goofing off for a long time to get through my degree. That was the most important thing to me. I wanted to be a doctor more than anything else I had ever wanted in my life.

"I didn't even call her back. Not a word. I just disappeared, and let her think it was a cheap little one night stand, because it was easier that way. At least for me.

"But because of that, she was always the one that got away. The one I wondered 'What if?' about. I mean, she was young, it might have gone nowhere. But later, after spending so much time with her, working for her, I just kept thinking how we ended up together everyday for the better part of our professional lives. If I had just called her back, who knows? Maybe she was the one, but I just did a House and went from one extreme to the next and passed on someone that would have worked. Someone who could actually deal with me.

"After we met again, she didn't give me the time of day, at least in a personal relationship way. We worked in the same hospital, but not together. We didn't hang out. We weren't friends but we consulted for the other from time to time and had a mutual respect for the other. I met Stacy and that was good, until it wasn't. Cuddy was my attending physician after the infarction. The both of them knowingly went against my wishes, butchered my leg and I hated them both for a really long time.

"Then I couldn't hate them any longer. They did what they thought was right. They did what I always do, and if karma exists, I figure I was just a victim of it. But even after Stacy left, came back and left again, there was always Cuddy. She's one of the things that, whether I like it or not, I know it will be there everyday. I can count on it, like the sun rising and setting. Though she would never outwardly let on, she regretted what she did to me. I think that is why she fought so hard to keep me on when I more or less just stopped taking cases, wallowed in self-pity and started abusing vicodin.

"And there has always been the tension. You can't have sex with someone, enjoy it, and not have the tension. So after so many years, both of us alone, both miserable, I thought fuck it. The two of us should just do this thing. But the trust between us wasn't there.

"I went to her house when her first adoption didn't go through and ended up kissing her. But that was after I treated her like complete and utter dog shit for wanting a baby. I was in pain and I was jealous. I wanted her, but I knew she wouldn't trust me as a father. So I lashed out at her. The drugs and the pain played a part, but I am the worst form of jerk when I am afraid of being hurt.

"I don't know what came over me, but I just walked into her house, tried to be nice but she lashed out and then I just took hold of her and kissed her. She kissed back and it made me feel like running. The next day she actually wanted to start something more. I almost immediately retreated and went right back to being a jerk. I was terrified. She just gave it right back and I let her lash out at me more and more just to avoid falling any deeper and really taking a chance on getting hurt. I know I can't handle another Stacy situation. And that is all I could see any relationship becoming.

"Then she moved on, and the lack of interest drew me back in. She adopted Rachel and I saw my chance fade again, but still, she would say and do things that just made me want her. A year ago, spent my birthday believing Cuddy had helped me detox and that afterward we had sex. I was so fucked up that it seemed completely real. I spent the day trying to figure out if she just didn't want to talk about it at work or if she was blowing me off because she regretted it. Then, in one moment, it suddenly became clear. She was acting like it didn't happen because it didn't.

"Wilson took me into Mayfield the next day. But despite it not being real, I wanted it to be. I wanted her to save me. I didn't just fuck her in my hallucination, I fell in love with the idea of her as my savior.

"My life that could have been, but never was.

"After I came back, I believed we could finally start something. But she'd moved on already with Lucas."

Reaching out you take Allison's hand, rubbing your thumb over her finger.

"I wish I could tell you she means nothing to me, but there is always going to be something there. I can't help that. I know that you aren't stupid. I know you saw it tonight. But this thing that I have with you. It actually works for me. You don't reflect my crazy back at me tit for tat. You absorb it and deflect it. You don't let me walk all over you, but you don't enact revenge either.

"I need that. I need reasonable and sane in my life. I need someone to just love me for me and not just to love the idea of having me when I am on my best behavior.

"I may have wanted Cuddy, and I do still care enough about her to not want to hurt her, but I don't think she can be for me what you've been. I need you. You make me happy. I've fallen in love with you. You aren't just the backup plan. You are the plan."

She cocks her head to her right and gives you a sad little smile.

"Everybody lies, Greg. Even to themselves. I did for more than two years with Chase. I told him I was over you so many times I started to believe it myself. I enjoyed being with him. The sex was good. He was good for me and to me. And I convinced myself it was enough for a really long time, until one day it wasn't and I couldn't believe the lie anymore.

"He saw the signs. He questioned them and I kept insisting to both of us that there was nothing there. But he was right to question it. He would have been wise to just cut his losses and walk away.

"Did you know I fell in love with my husband's best friend, while my husband was still alive? We were together everyday and he was there for me, but I couldn't cheat, even knowing that Brian wouldn't make it. I couldn't even be with Joe after, because it felt like a betrayal. I loved Brian that much. But if you would have come to me while I was with Chase, I would have. I can't control how I feel about you, and it's both amazing and terrifying. I might have been able to fight it for a few weeks or maybe even months, but if you would have pursued me, I would have given in.

"I know you love me. But I also know that sometimes that isn't enough when you are also in love with someone else. I don't want to be the woman who knows her partner cheats and is okay with that. I don't want to be the one left at the altar when you realise that you can't settle. After seeing the look on both your faces tonight, I can't just ignore this and hope it goes away."

Everything she says makes perfect sense, except you don't want to be with Cuddy more than her. Not now. Question is how can you convince her. Her entire experience with Chase is clouding her judgment, but in fairness, she isn't without evidence. You've stopped thinking about Cuddy as a partner, not sure exactly when, but it happened. It could be blamed on the epic sex. But this is so much more than sex.

Way more.

Funny how your first instinct is to pull her onto your lap and have sex with her to prove it. This is not the kind of conversation you are good at.

Goddammit.

"I can't deny there are parallels. But if this were a diferential, I'd tell you you're wrong and call you an idiot. You're seeing the symptoms but you're either ignoring or missing the patient history. Of course, then, you would get defensive and say, 'I did get a history!' and I'd I have to send you to do it again. Then you'd poke around some more and find out there are things you didn't know. Blah blah."

She smirks at you then and shakes her head. Good. You hoped she'd take it that way.

"Look, I suck at this part. But I don't connect with people like this very often and when I do it's a huge risk for me, because I don't know how to hold back. So I just take the route of not trusting many people. Wilson was about it for me. I trusted Stacy and she…"

You let the silence hang in the air, tired of rehashing this old story.

"So then I was back to just Wilson. And back to pushing people away. Now there is you.

"I told you once, I wouldn't crush you. And my way of not doing that then was to push you away. I liked you, a part of me wanted to trust you even then, but I couldn't and couldn't trust myself not to break that promise then. I think on some level I just needed to prove myself right. So I was a complete jerk anytime I felt that connection with you. I'd reset us back to awkward and never let my guard down. I was a wreck. No one should have been with me then. I would have either dragged you down with me or you would have left and I would be the one who was crushed.

"I am finally in a place where I can trust again. I honestly didn't think I ever would be able to. But I do trust you. I've told you things about me that I don't even talk to Wilson about. Please trust me. I won't crush you. I don't just need us. I want us. The fact that I think of us in terms of an 'us' is something that I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to do again.

"When I'm with you I find myself thinking of things I'd given up on wanting. I actually allow myself to consider a life outside of work with you. Last night, I dreamt you died. When I woke up I was terrified I was alone again. I don't want to roll the dice on something with Cuddy that hasn't found a way to work for 20 years on the off chance I might be able to have this level of trust and love with her.

"Why would I do that? Us is good. I like us. I want there to keep being an us."

An advantage to your old car, is the full front seat which allows her to scoot across the seat to sit right beside you. Laying her head on your shoulder, she sighs as your hand drifts to the inside of her knee. You sit in silence for a while before she speaks and when she does you hold your breath for a moment, not sure what will come next.

"I trust you. I like us too. I'm just… I guess I'm just used to not getting to be happy. So I have this expectation that every good relationship I have is going to end badly. Because they always have. You're right. I'm damaged. I'm just better at hiding it than most."

The rain still pelts down around you. It looks like there may not be a let up anytime soon. You just want to curl up around her and hold her, and that could happen here, but it would be far more comfortable in your bed. Fuck it. Looks like you're just going to have to get wet.

"C'mon. Let's go inside. I don't think we're going to be able to avoid getting soaked, unless you just want to spend the night in my car."

"Okay." She answers and you open the door and stand up as she hands you your cane and slides out the driver's side with you. Your instinct is to run, but logic takes over. Between your leg and the fact you were soaked in the first second out the door, there is little point. You are just glad your new cell phone is in the trunk and not your pocket.

Once out, Allison closes the door and you put your arm around her as you both walk to the door. You unlock it and open the door. Once inside, you both kick off your shoes and head straight to the bathroom so you can ring out your soaked clothes and dry off.

Of course, she looks stunning wet.

She turns as soon as you are both in the bathroom and looks up into your eyes as her hands push your jacket off and toss it back towards the tub. Never breaking eye contact with you she slowly works her way through the buttons of your shirt and pushes it off your shoulders to reveal your bare chest underneath.

You take a turn next pulling of her sweater and tossing it to join your other clothes in the tub. As you do, she makes quick work of the clasp of her bra and you help her slide it off as well and pull her to you to feel damp skin on skin, still holding her eyes. Raising a hand, you tuck back her wet hair behind her ears, then lift her chin and kiss her lips gently.

She begins to work on your belt and then your jeans. Lowering herself as she pushes them down, allowing you to step out of them and, in a moment more far more comedic than sexy, she helps take off your socks, then picks your clothes up, takes them to the tub, and hangs them over the shower rod. Her own jeans follow with some difficulty before retrieving the other wet clothes and hanging them as well. She tosses her panties and socks off last and you kick your boxer briefs her way as well, leaving you both naked and wet.

She grabs your towels from the rack and walks back over to you and you wrap yours around your waist, then grab hers and begin to dry her hair, working your way down her body, planting kisses as you work your way down. Reaching her waist, you curse being a cripple. You want to just drop to your knees, dry her legs and feet, then take her into your mouth. Unfortunately, that isn't so easy. It not so sexy when you have to ask her to help you up and down.

You don't have to explain. She understands and takes the towel steps back, turns, then proceeds to give you a little show as she props up a leg to dry herself. Damn, she is so beautiful.

Finishing, she returns to you fully naked and grabs your towel and loosens it. Pulling it off of you she returns the gesture and drys you head to toe, because she can, and, once finished, she tosses the towel and raises up to her knees and takes you into her mouth. God, her mouth feels so fucking hot, after being soaked in the cool rain.

"Allison, let's go to bed. I want to taste you too and I can't do that here." You offer her a hand to help her stand, and hold it as you lead her to the bed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you pull her between your legs and rest your head between her breasts as you hug her. Her reaction tonight scares the hell out of you. She runs her fingers through your hair and leans down and kisses the top of your head.

A moment later you break from the embrace and lie back in the center of the bed. Once you are situated, she crawls on the bed and turns her pussy toward your face as she crawls on top of you and takes your hard cock back into her mouth. Oh, god yes. She positions herself so you can return the favor and you kiss her sex gently a few times before snaking out your tongue to taste her.

She always tastes so good. You could spend all night with your head between her legs and be content.

There is something so incredibly intimate about a 69. Or at least you've always felt that way. Both partners pleasuring the other together, reacting, feeling the reaction of the other person in the way they suck and lick you. Leaving space as the other digs in more. It's almost like playing jazz music.

The both of you take your time composing your improvisation. Crescendo, diminuendo. Harmony, counterpoint. Piano, forte. Your bodies play one another, coursing forward toward a final cadence.

You lie facing her afterwards, eyes locked on the other's, hands intertwined. "Thank you." You tell her.

"For what?" she asks.

"For taking the risk on me."

You drop your eyes from hers then. "Please don't leave me." You beg her softly. She scoots closer to you and you pull her into your embrace.

"I love you Greg. I'm not going to leave you. I'm just afraid you'll leave me."

She buries her head in your chest and inhales deeply, like she is memorising the scent of you and you kiss her crown in return. "I love you too, Allison. I don't know why it's so hard for me to tell you sometimes. Please don't think that means it isn't true. I do not want to lose this. Things will blow over and get back to normal. Just please be patient with me sometimes being an ass in the meantime."

* * *

You had more restless sleep. Thankfully, no nightmares as intense as the previous night, but you woke up feeling unrested, anxious and sad. Staring at your reflection you diagnose the symptoms:

Anxiety  
Insomnia or vivid dreams  
Tiredness  
Irritability  
Mood swings

You pull out the bottle of antidepressants and stare at it, knowing exactly what is happening to you and that it is partly your own doing.

It's the withdrawal side effects. Damnit. Your mind feels so much more clear.

Do you tough it out?

Do you give up and start redosing?

How long will it take for you to even out?

Will you ever even out?

'Give it a week.' You tell yourself, sure you can make it at least that far without completely crashing and burning, as you place the meds back in the cabinet. Plus you have Allison. She will ground you, keep you from doing something totally stupid. If, in a week, you still feel like shit, you'll go back on. But hopefully things improve and you can really get back to being you. The you before the infarction. The you that could be happy without medication.

* * *

While having breakfast, Allison convinces your mother to go on a girlie shopping trip. Which translates to a setup to get your mother alone so she can ask about your bio dad. That plan, however, leaves you to entertain your step-father. Lovely. At least Sam was nice enough to lend you Wilson for the afternoon. His presence certainly takes the edge off.

It's strange really, the number of conflicting emotions you have about Thomas now. There is the part of you that really did wish he was your father. The part that is pissed off he married your mother, which means that you didn't imagine the connection the two of them had that made you suspicious in the first place. Now you have this new puzzle of figuring out when that happened and wondering if your mother had a track record of unfaithfulness. On that level, you feel sorry for Thomas. Because at some point he is going to find out you aren't John's and how will that affect his feelings for your mother.

There is also a bit of relief. After confirming your suspicions about John, you had tried to find out more about Thomas and found a person that you couldn't imagine ever having a real connection to. His world revolves around the concept of God. Yours science. And those concepts don't always tend to mix well. In short, his book makes you think he's an idiot.

However, you can't deny he is a nice man. He loves your mother and your mother should have those things. A nice man that loves her.

Mini-golf. You haven't done that in years, but driving back from breakfast you passed a place and found yourself compelled to pull in and play. Wilson approaches the attendant to pay while you and Thomas take a look at putters.

Leaning your cane against the counter, you pick up one of the longest available and give it a practice swing. It does nothing but serve to remind you that you used to get to play real golf. You liked playing. You were good at it. Wilson was okay, but was happy to tag along with you for an excuse to drink and get away from his wife.

You put it back down, and eye your cane. Fuck it. You can't use both at the same time anyway, so you pick it up and decide it can serve double duty as your putter and walking aid. Besides, it might add a little sauce to the goose and make the whole thing more fun.

"Hey House, what color ball do you want?" Wilson asks you as he sorts through a bin of balls.

"Definitely not the blue." You tell him, because you can't resist.

He rolls his eyes and tosses you a green ball, hands Thomas a red one, and takes a purple for himself before grabbing a long putter and heading out the door to lead the way to the first hole. Once there, he passes out the scorecards and pencils. "Okay. Who wants to go first?"

"Age before beauty." You answer him with a wink and tell Thomas. "I guess you're up as the pack elder."

"So what are you going to do about Cuddy?" Wilson asks you as you watch Thomas play the first hole.

"What's there to do? We were going to tell her Tuesday, now she knows, so I guess now we won't be telling her on Tuesday. I think she was more pissed at you than me anyway. So what are _you_ going to do about Cuddy? You actually have to go back into work on Monday after the inspection. Allison inadvertently saved my ass by offering to give Mom and Thomas a lift to the airport. I'm just going to take a full day now instead of half."

"I guess I'll spend the rest of the day with patients and avoid my office. Cross my fingers she decides to go the route of the silence treatment."

"Well, just let me know what kind of funeral you want now. You might consider cremation, since open caskets and decapitation don't always mix."

"Sometimes I really wonder why I am friends with you."

"You like the sex."

* * *

"I can't believe you got us kicked out of putt putt." Wilson groans as you start the car.

"Me? Thomas was the one that got pissed and drove the ball across four greens." You smile, picturing the look on that kid's face when Thomas launched the ball right into the lake. Seems mister nice guy does have a little streak of temper. Your respect level for him has raised a few notches.

"Well, it's a stupid rule. That kid had no business telling Greg not to putt with his cane. I should know. My people invented the bloody game." He was actually pissed at them for you. Your father would have never taken your side. He would have been a jerk for your using the cane in the first place. Guess you could have done worse in a step-father.

"Let me buy you a beer, Thomas. We still have an hour to kill before the women get back from the hunt."

Wilson whistles from the back seat. "Wow. Greg never buys. We should record this in the history books."

"Oh and by I, I of course meant Jimmy boy will be buying us both a beer." You wink back to Wilson via the rearview mirror. Oh, he is so cute when you abuse him a little.

* * *

When the ladies return from shopping, they meet you at your old place. You didn't beat them there by much, having stopped by a local pub for a midday drink. Wilson and Thomas hit it off and fine by you, as it kept you from having to carry a conversation with Thomas. Like him or not, you still hate small talk.

He did ask about the house. That you were happy to tell him about. Then he decided to bring up the topic of Allison's parents. That shut the door on the conversation rather quickly as Wilson bailed you out, explaining they are in Chicago and that you haven't gotten to meet them. Yeah. Or talk to them, or even witness your girlfriend talk to them. You can't even answer the question 'Do they know about you?' Damn. That is a bit worrisome.

Or it could just be an over reaction because of the lack of meds. Even so, it's been a month. It's kind of odd.

Well, on the up side, her brother and his family know. That means she's not hiding you really. She does have a track record of Daddy hating her choices. Doubt he'll be any more thrilled about you than Cancer Boy or The Wombat.

When the women come in, they find the three of you sitting in the living room. Wilson and Thomas take the couch and you the lounge. Allison and your mother pass you a knowing look. So, it's out in the open now. Question is when will they loop you in. The puzzle is now burning in your mind and it take a great amount of effort to not just blurt out the question in front of Wilson and Thomas.

A great amount of effort.

"Greg, could I get you to help me with something in the bedroom?" Your mother asks you and you nod as you hoist yourself up and walk towards the women. You reach Allison and give her a peck on the cheek. "Find everything you needed?" You ask, knowing your double meaning won't be lost on her.

"Yeah. I did. I'll show you later."

With that you lead the way back to your bedroom. Your mother follows you and closes the door as you turn and sit on the bed. "So…"

"So, Allison told me about the DNA tests. And about the rest, at least what you told her." She says as she takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. "I guess I should have known you'd figure it out. John never told me what happened when you were a boy and you told him, or I would have talked to you sooner. It was always our intention you would be raised as John's child."

"You mean he knew?" You ask, sure your shock is not hidden.

"Oh yes. You see, things were more complicated then. John and I tried for a child for a few years. I saw a few doctors and the problem wasn't on my side. It was a nearly impossible task, but I managed to get your father to get a fertility test. Back then, it was not an accepted thing for men. For lots of reasons. But you're a doctor, you know the history I'm sure."

"We talked about adoption, but I wanted the whole experience. I want to be pregnant, to have that connection with my child. The idea of losing that made me depressed for a while.

"John loved me. He was a hard man, but I never doubted his feelings toward me. He wanted children just as much as I did and, just before he left the country in '58, he told me that he was destined to raise some other man's child one way or the other, and if he had to do that, he'd still rather raise my child than another woman's. In that way, the child could still be his, because I was his."

"He told you to have sex with other men?"

"He didn't say it like that, but yes, he gave me permission to try to have a baby and he did it when he wouldn't have to really be faced with knowing it was happening. So I had two months. I had sex with two men. One was Thomas. But you already suspected that. The other, who I've always been sure was your father, was a musician."

"Huh. Well that explains a lot."

"Yes. He was a jazz guitarist, Connor Caudill. I met him at a festival. He was on tour with a big band. He was charming, and handsome, an amazing musician and had a reputation for siring children in every port. I had wanted it to be Thomas. He was such a good friend to the family. He didn't know what I was doing, and I didn't want to burden him. He just thought I was lonely and I took advantage of the fact I knew he liked me more than he should.

"But I also wanted a backup plan and I knew that Connor, if you'll pardon the expression, wasn't shooting blanks." Her comment makes you chuckle, despite the fact she's your mother. She returns a smile and continues. "I managed to meet him after a performance and he was more that willing to… ah… help. I even told him what I was doing and he told me "'Well, Honey, you came to the right place.'

"Actually, even though I only knew him a couple of days, I imagine you are a lot like him. You look like him too."

"So, this Connor guy, does he know his little soldiers were successful in planting the flag?"

"I never saw him or talked to him again after that week. So he knows as much as he may have heard through the grapevine, which probably isn't much, since he wasn't from our area and I never even told him my real name.

"John was actually happy. His plan worked, and he didn't have to open that conversation again. It hurt him to let me do that, but he did it because he loved me. When you were born he was so proud to be a father. But as you grew up, it became apparent that you and he were like oil and water. He didn't know how to handle you. He took the route his father took. When it didn't work he was at a loss and he didn't know any other way. But he _did_ love you and I am sure it hurt him when you figured it out."

Dammit. You'd never considered that. You should have. But you never figured infertility as the reason you were an only child. You hated him so much, you just projected that emotion onto your mother, assuming you were the product of an affair she had to spite him. Now you really feel like a jerk though it isn't your fault. They should have told you before now, but still. He wanted you. That changes everything and fucks your mind some more.

"I broke it off with Thomas as soon as your father came home. But the feelings never really went away. He was respectful and he always felt guilty about taking part in an affair with his best friend's wife, and him a man of the cloth. When you were born, he thought you were his. I wasn't sure you weren't at the time, but I told him you were premature and that I knew you were John's. He became more devoted to the church after that. When your father died, Thomas was there for me and it was just the most natural thing to be with him again."

"And he still doesn't know you cheated on him?"

"No. He doesn't."

Wow. That certainly complicates things. You want to find your biological father. Maybe send Lucas to spy on him, but you don't want to destroy your mother's marriage.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I guess I'll have to now. I don't want to keep you from finding your biological father if that is what you want to do. But please, give me a couple of weeks to talk to Thomas before you do anything."

"I've waited this long. What's another couple of weeks?"

* * *

The news about your fathers leaves you with a bit of shell shock.

You'd always thought your mother was about as typical and boring as mothers come. Boy, were you wrong.

On the one hand it explains so much, on the other you are still pretty pissed they left you in the dark for so long. You decide to make a hasty exit from your apartment, letting Allison make your excuses for you because neither of you trust your sharp tongue when you get upset.

On the ride home you let her drive so you can think. "So I guess she told you everything?" You ask. Wondering if your mother left the details for you to tell or if she gave Allison the full story or maybe even the romance novel version.

"Yes. She told me. I imagine she may have even given me a few details she left out of your version. You told me you didn't want to hear the _Bridges of Madison County_ version, but I will say that apparently you came by Not-so-little Greg quite honestly."

"Oh God." That is just so wrong. And by the shit eating grin on her face, Allison seems to be enjoying teasing you a little too much. She did learn from you; how can you really blame her for walking through the wide open door.

"Judging by her smile when she told me, I'd say guitar wasn't the only thing he was a master at strumming either."

"I am really glad you are enjoying my moment of personal discovery so much." Your tone drips with sarcasm but in some strange way you are pleased to find out you are the product of great sex.

"I have siblings." It suddenly hits you. "Apparently bio dad was a stud in both the figurative and literal sense. I just went from being an only child to having who knows how many half brothers and sisters; all over the world maybe. That is so weird."

"Um, no. That is so frightening. One of you is just about all the world can handle."

"Funny how you never seem to have enough of me when either of my heads are between your legs."

* * *

Oh fucking God! That fucking cop outfit makes your cock want to explode on sight. The way the black pleated skirt hugs to her hips, showing off the curve of her Iliac crests and its short length revealing every delicious inch of her legs. Those fucking gorgeous toned legs, pushed up in all the right ways by her black high heel boots that stop just below the knee.

The flat perfect stomach, all exposed and creamy white. The top that barely qualifies as a shirt, tied around her breasts with her hard nipples threatening to poke holes in the thin white fabric, with the police insignia sewn to each of the short sleeves.

And the hat. That fucking hot as hell hat, sitting atop her long golden curls.

Fuck these handcuffs! You need to touch her, or at least yourself. Your cock is aching against your jeans, yearning for freedom. Sweat begins to coat your naked chest as your respiratory rate increases.

"I have ways of making you talk, Gregory. You can't stay silent forever and, I assure you, once I am done, you'll be begging me to cooperate."

A villainous smirk dances across your face as you glare at her definitely, wondering what torture she has planned for you. You test the cuffs again as she stands over your lap, your hands cuffed behind the chair back, too far away for your mouth to taste her, unable to reach out and touch her. The smell of her arousal reaches your nostrils and you fight away a groan as your mind drifts to images of her tasty little cunt pressed against your lips.

She takes her right hand and, starting from her upper abdomen, slides it down her body, into her skirt and into her panties. You can see her hand working her clit under the fabric and your pulse quickens again.

She lets out a moan as she pleasures herself inches away from you, then takes her hand from her pants and sits down slowly into your lap. Her face is right in front of yours now and she raises her fingers to her mouth and slowly sucks them in on by one.

Fuck.

Your hips grind up trying desperately to generate any sort of friction but, with a devilish grin, she stands again and leaves you panting.

"Information is rewarded, Gregory. Silence is punished. Talk to me and we can end this now."

You don't dare breathe a word, much to Little Greg's protest.

"Torture me all you like. Gregory House doesn't talk." You spit back at her, staring at her with your steel-blue eyes.

"As you wish, Gregory. But, you will talk. They all talk. It's just a matter of time before you do too." With that she rakes her nails across your very sensitive nipples causing you to let out a little yelp.

You aren't sure you want to know where she learned to do this, but damn, it's fucking good.

She steps back and shimmies off her panties, leaving the rest of her attire in place. She kicks them forward to hit you square in the chest, before they drop to your lap. Her smell overtakes your olfactory senses again as she sits on the edge of the bed and spreads her legs open before you. The light covering of her neatly shaved and trimmed pubic hair glistens with moisture. As always, she is so fucking wet for you.

If you could only touch her. Grab her. Thrust yourself into her soft and slick flesh. Shoot your load all over her dripping wet snatch. You pull again against the cuffs, reveling in the pain of them digging into your wrists. Aching to free yourself and your frustrated prick from this prison.

Next to her on the bed, is an assortment of toys. A smirk plays across your face as you note the missing set of anal beads and the missing butt plug. You squirm a little in the chair which causes a delicious bit of friction on your prostate, the insertion of the plug the result of the full body cavity search that happened right before this little interrogation.

Just below her perfect pink pussy, you can see the ring from her beads. You want to pull them out with your teeth right now, then bend her over and impale her virgin ass with your cock.

You might actually come in your pants tonight.

"Fucking whore!" You growl at her, receiving only a smile in return as she picks up one of the toys from the bed. A long white vibrator. Turning it on, she moves it to her clit and hovers over it lightly.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Gregory. Just say the word, and I'll release you. Otherwise, we'll continue. Why beg, when you can have what you want now?" With that, she presses the vibe to her clit and throws her head back in the pleasure of the sensations.

It's amazing to watch and frustrating as hell that you can't at least touch yourself. The plug gives you a pleasant pressure against your prostate, but it's not nearly enough. You lean forward with a grunt and pull against the manacles, so tempted to just hit the release levers and free yourself to fuck her tight and dripping pussy. The movement causes another delicious stroke to your prostate. As her pleasure builds, she moans and gyrate. You can't help but start to grind your hips in time and you are rewarded with a gratifying sensation deep in your core.

She spills over the edge with the first orgasm of many you assume she'll persecute you with. The soft flesh twitches and she rubs it lightly extending her pleasure, then grabs the ring and pulls the beads from her ass slowly as she reapplies the vibe to her clit. She spills over again with a little yelp and moan.

Fucking stunning.

You grind your ass harder into the chair when, suddenly, you are hit with a jolt. Somehow you've managed to turn on the vibration function on the butt plug and your whole body is flooded with an overwhelming sensation that is damn near too much. Crying out you beg for help to turn it back off, but are met with only a smirk and a raised eyebrow from your warden. For a split second you consider yelling the safe word and in that second Allison's eyes soften. She stands up and approaches you, then sits in your lap.

"Just say the word and I can make it stop." She says, still in character but kindly reminding you that she is ready to end the game with the utterance of your safe word. You lock eyes with her and you make the decision to allow the overwhelming sensation to overtake you.

"Never." You pant and the smirk returns as she stares into your eyes and enjoys taking in your look of overwhelming pleasure.

"As you wish."

She is enthralled watching you this way. You feel a warm tingle start to radiate from your prostate up through your back and down through your legs. It even washes out the remainder of your pain, like a taking a full body drink of scotch, it burns from the inside in a satisfying way. You've never felt anything quite like it and you give yourself over to the sensation leaning your head back and closing your eyes for a second before Allison takes your face in her hands and pulls at you. "No. Look at me. Look at me while you come. I want to see it."

You lock eyes with her just as you peak and your whole body convulses under her. It is an overwhelming orgasm, but it doesn't stop, it just crashes over you again like waves against a beach and it seems like an eternity of pleasure.

"God, this is beautiful." She says reverently, as she watches you have your first ever full prostate orgasm. You hardly realise it, when she releases the cuffs, then pulls you forward enough to slide her hand into the back of your pants and turn off the vibration.

The crazy part is, you are still hard as a rock. You wouldn't call it a dry orgasm by any means, your cock is drenched in precum and your pants are wet from it, but you didn't ejactulate with your climax.

"Let me fuck you and I'll tell you whatever you need to know." You tell her. Ready to put this game to an end and fuck her senseless. You crave more of the rush.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?" She asks.

"You don't, but right now I see it as your only option."

With that, she stands and offers you her hand to help you follow. Once you are up, she unbuttons your jeans and pushes them off. Stepping out, you approach the bed and grab the toy you've been dreaming of using since you first ordered it. The purple cock ring double penetration trainer.

"I'd like to fuck you with this." You tell her and she begins to disrobe. "Leave the hat… and the skirt." You tell her.

She complies, then moves to the bed tossing the other toys to the side and lying down on her stomach. You grab the bottle of lube and crawl on the bed straddling her. She pushes her ass up a little as you do and you flip open the cap on the squeeze bottle and squirt her anus. Then you drizzle a generous amount on the small dildo in your hand and rub it between her ass cheeks and over her rear entrance a few times before reaching down and slipping a finger inside.

Your cock twitches upward as you do and the ring around it pulls the strap that attaches to the plug and sends another wave of pleasure surging out from your prostate. A unison moan comes from both of you as you stroke her slowly with you finger, a moment later adding another to begin to spread her for the next phase.

Content she is ready, you place the head of the small purple cock against her hole and slowly push it forward, very mindful to not hurt her. She relaxes more allowing it entrance and, once in place, you slip your own cock through the ring and into her tight cunt, which again creates a pull against your own toy and doubles the pleasure you receive from the action.

"Holy fuck, Allison."

"I know. It's so fucking good."

You begin slow and steady thrusts. Every motion accompanied by the incredible friction of her pussy against your cock while also pulling at the connection to your prostate. You lean down to kiss the nape of her neck, your whole front rubbing against her back.

"Do you like that? Two cocks fucking you. Filling you." You whisper against her ear.

"God, yes! I can't get enough of you fucking me."

"I've never come like that before, Allison. It was so fucking good. I had no idea it could be like that. It was like my whole body was coming for you."

"That's how I feel every time you make me come."

You start to pick up speed and her ass raises to meet you with each thrust. Her body has adjusted and it is begging for you to fuck her.

"On your knees." You command her as you push up and raise to yours, pulling out of her as you do and immediately missing the connection. She follows quickly and you push in your cock a few inches before lining up the dildo again and pushing both in all the way. Fuck it is good, but one last thing will take it over the edge. Reaching down under your cock you find the switch for the double penetrator's vibrating clit stimulator. "Allison, I'm going to turn on the vibrator for your clit while I fuck both your tight little holes."

Turning it on low, it grinds against her throbbing clit and the font of your balls. You can feel it pulse through her pussy walls too and you reach behind your ass and flip the switch on yours.

"Jesus, Greg!" She cries out, feeling the waves from both as well.

A second later you grab the waist of her skirt and pound into her. Every zone of your manhood being assaulted with pleasure, every zone of your lover being fucked hard. You hear a change in pitch as she reaches under her and turn hers up to high, pressing it hard against her clit. Soon she cries out as she is overcome with her climax. The walls of her vagina convulse and that is your final undoing as you come harder than you can ever remember into her. Then, reaching behind you, you turn off the vibe and pull the plug out as the final jolt of pleasure overtakes you and you collapse on top her completely spent.

A moment later you roll off of her and onto your back, taking a moment to carefully unleash your cock and balls from the various toys wrapped around them. Once free, you toss them to the side and grab her and pull her to lie on top of you, and she clings lazily to you, content to bask in the afterglow. You reach up and grab the hat, find the pins holding it on and remove them gently before tossing it across the room.

"So, officer, I'm ready to talk. Ask me anything." You tease.

"Have you ever had a prostate orgasm before?"

"No. First time. I guess that makes us sort of even."

"How are your wrists? You were fighting the cuffs pretty hard."

Raising your wrists, you look at them one at a time. They each are marked with a red indention.

"They might bruise a bit. But it was _so_ worth it. Our sex is amazing." You hug her again and kiss the top of her head and let yourself succumb to afterglow laziness.

* * *

After a long post coital nap, you meet Mom and Thomas for dinner and afterward decide to turn in early. You have the inspection tomorrow morning and you want to get a workout in before you go. At least you don't have to get up butt-fuck-early to do it this time, having taken a personal day off of work tomorrow.

You wake up again in a cold sweat. You don't remember the dream this time, something about falling maybe. Getting up, you swing your legs to the side of the bed and rub down your thigh for a minute before getting up to get a glass of water and a dose of melatonin.

Returning to bed a few minutes later, you wrap yourself around Allison and try to will yourself back to sleep. You love how perfectly her body molds into yours. Like she was made to fit there.

Waking up the second time is brought on by the alarm. Allison reaches to the side table and turns it off, then rolls back over to cuddle up against you for a few minutes more. She's militant when she has to be, but on days like today, where you don't have anywhere to be for several hours, she is very content to snooze with you. It's nice.

A five minute snooze turns into a twenty minute snuggle session. Yes, Gregory House is a closet cuddler. You'll freely admit it, at least to yourself and your lover. It's just women are so soft and they smell so good, especially the woman currently in the bed beside you. How could you not love it?

Begrudgingly, you finally rise and get ready for the gym.

After your workout, you grab an early lunch and head over to your apartment to pick up your mother and Thomas for the inspection. Wilson plans to meet you there as well. He may be as excited about the whole thing as you and Allison.

One thing is for sure. Your mother is ecstatic about the house. She hasn't brought it up again, but you know exactly what she is thinking:

Grandbabies.

She has never nagged you much, knowing you. However, she gave you enough hints with Stacy, and the one comment about Allison, to make it clear she'd love to get to be a grandmother.

Lately you'd like to make her one, but of course Allison has shied away, worried you are just being impulsive. Maybe you are. It _is_ really great sex.

When you get to the home, the inspector meets you in the drive, having already completed his inspection. He approaches the group and asks "Which of you are Greg and Allison?"

"That's us." You and she step forward and she shakes his hand, while you hang back not offering yours.

"Well, you've picked a really great place. There are a few minor things, but overall, nothing to write home about. If you'll follow me, I'll walk you through, then I'll get out of your hair so you can show your family around."

Your mother, Thomas and Wilson hang back in the great room, admiring the view from the wall of windows while you take a tour of the various issues with the inspector. In the end, it is more or less just what you expected and you cut him a check and are left to show off the place a bit.

"So, what do you think?" You ask your mother as you hang with her in the kitchen. Allison and the others are still wandering around the large back yard.

"I think for the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm not worried about you. This is a beautiful home, Greg. Allison is a wonderful woman and I can see she is changing you. It's been a really long time since you've acted like you want to have something outside of your job."

"Yeah. I want a lot of things and I'm letting myself want them." You lean over the cabinet, staring out the window at the side yard, wondering if you should broach the next subject. Truth is, your mother is the only person you think you can talk to about this so, as uncomfortable as it is, you decide to tell her and get her view.

"Actually, I talked to Allison about kids. I don't even know where it came from; I just keep thinking about it now. It kind of freaked her out a bit. She thinks I might just be acting on impulse and she is afraid of getting hurt again. Pretty much all of her serious relationships have ended badly and now she is a little gun shy on the topic."

You feel a hand on your arm, then a head on your shoulder.

"She'll come around. Being with the right person changes things. Especially for people who don't find it easy to find the right person. Both of you deserve to be happy. I think you are a good fit for one another. Yesterday, we got to talk quite a bit. She lights up when she talks about you. Whatever it is she needs, you must be giving it to her. The way she looks at you…"

You turn back to face her and she continues.

"She told me about her first husband. It was heartbreaking. She needs to love someone who needs love more than the next person. She needs to fill the vacuum of hurt and loneliness. It completes her. It puts her in her element and makes her stronger. In short, she is perfect for you."

She smiles at you and you nod back. "Yeah. I know." Both knowing all too well just how fragile and lonely your life has been. You're certain you get your powers of observation from your mother. Or at the very least you ability to read people. It's why you can't lie to her without extreme preparation. She, in just a few hours with Allison, nailed the dynamic and it is reassuring to you to hear it come from her.

"Once you get settled in, it will happen. Just let it. Don't worry about it too much, Greg. I know you are getting older, and it seems you are running out of time, but you're a man and you have a lot of good years left. Now me on the other hand, I should be the one pushing for babies. I think that is written in the mother of adults handbook somewhere. So you can always blame it on me next time you bring it up." She tells you with a wink, then puts her hand to your cheek.

You can always count on your mom to ground you. Despite the distance you've put between you, she knows you better than anyone, really. Even Wilson. She knows the you that you don't let very many people see. The you you are slowly starting to reveal to Allison. The you that needs to be loved and is sure will get hurt, but hopes this time you're wrong about that.


	28. In the Open

Chapter 28: In the Open

Allison drives on the way home from the airport and you take the opportunity to play with your new phone. Damn it's cool. You can take all the pictures you want of Allison now and have them right at your fingertips. The phrase 'spank bank' takes on a whole new meaning.

Playing with the controls, you snap picture after picture of her profile while driving. A smile is plastered to her face because of your boy like enjoyment of the birthday toy she gave you. You figure out the front facing camera next, making some funny faces and snapping some images of yourself. They aren't as sharp as the ones from the rear camera, but not bad, afterall this _is_ a phone.

Satisfied with your little camera self-tutorial, you turn your focus to more serious pursuits. Getting three stars on every level of Angry Birds.

After about fifteen minutes, Allison has had enough of the sound effects and asks "Can you at least mute that if you aren't going to talk and put some music on instead?"

"Ah. Mooooom. I was just having some fun; killing some pigs."

Mom. That reminds you; you were going to ask her about her parents. Muting the game, you continue to play as you strike up the awkward topic of conversation.

"So, ah… have you told your parents about the house?" Convenient pun, indeed.

"I talk to my mother most every week. I normally do it during a lunch break, which is why you've never been around when I have talked to her. Most of the time on Fridays, though since we've been together the day has fluctuated some."

"That doesn't exactly answer the question." Flinging a bluebird you break the glass structure and kill the pigs first shot.

"Yeah. They know about us and they know we are buying a house." She concedes a proper answer as you size up the next screen to plan your angle of attack. Flinging a red bird and just missing your planed mark, it leaves half the structure standing and the center pig merely bruised. Hitting restart on the level, you give it another go, knowing you need to nail it with one bird to achieve your goal score.

"And they're okay with you shacking up with your former boss, who is probably a more appropriate age for dating your mother than you?" You fling the bird again and hit true destroying the structure and all the pigs again.

"Well, Mom does have a thing for younger men. Maybe I should hide you from her. Wouldn't want the competition."

Putting the phone aside for the time being, you focus your attention on Allison to tease her a bit because of her last comment. "Is she hot? Because you know every man wants to check off the 'MILF and hot daughter threesome' fantasy from their list."

"Well, she is still very attractive for a 67 year old. Most people wouldn't guess her over 60."

"Really? 67?"

"Yeah. Dad's the younger of the pair. He'll be 59 in a month. She was a bit of a cradle robber. Especially given the rarity of the woman being the older in a romantic relationship."

"That is so entirely backwards." At least from the way you pictured it.

"Oh, you figured I got my taste for older men from my mother?" She laughs.

"Something like that." You smile back.

You hadn't expected them to be your age, given the age gap between Allison and her brother. But you'd expected it to be closer, at least for her mother. However, it's sort of nice to know her mom is technically old enough to be yours. So now you can sort of feel like you are in sibling age range.

"She was 37 when you were born. That was pushing old for a pregnancy in the 70s."

"Yeah, I was what my mother likes to call 'a welcome surprise.'

"They had a bit of a shotgun wedding. I think they used to party with the same circle of people. Dad was lower middle class and in trade school. Mom was a rich literature doctoral student. But somehow a couple of their friends managed to overlap.

"Gabe was a night of drunken passion baby. They'd been dating for about six months, were in love, so they decided to 'do the right thing' and get married. As I told you before, much to the disapproval of my mother's family.

"After Gabe was born, they were pretty happy. Once Dad got his first really solid job, the one that opened the door for him to start his own business, they decided to try for another kid. They got pregnant several times for a few years, but all ended in miscarriage. Then nothing. So they'd pretty much given up. A few years later, out of the blue, a pregnancy stuck and here I am."

"So, they are cool with us? Or am I strike number three on Daddy's scorecard?"

"Just can't resist those sports metaphors can you?" She shakes her head. "Actually, Mom was excited for me. According to her, Dad seemed 'happy to hear I was happy' but he's still not jumping at the chance to converse with me himself."

"So invite them here. They can be our first overnight guests in the new house. Or let's go see them for his birthday, like Gabe suggested."

You aren't sure why you are pushing this agenda. Maybe it is because of the developments surrounding your own father. Or maybe it's your broken image of Allison Cameron's perfect little life creating a puzzle you need to solve. Whatever the reason, you are compelled to push her to fix this.

"I'll invite them, but don't expect them to come. In fact, I'd be shocked."

* * *

Tuesday morning finds you back at work, perusing case files with your team, wondering if something not boring will find its way to you. Your mood is darker today. Still not sleeping well, the lack of good rest is weighing on you. Allison asked about it this morning. The mood changes and restless sleep are not lost on her, but you play it off. You don't want her to know about your little experiment and blame the whole thing on stress.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of eyes on you. Looking up from a file, you find Taub's eyes are fixed on the light bruising around your wrist. It makes you smile. Well, at least this should be good.

"House, what's up with your wrists?"

"Got into a little trouble with the law over the weekend. Ended up handcuffed and thoroughly interrogated by a very hot police officer before I caved in and gave her what she wanted."

Chase, who had chosen that unfortunate moment to take a sip of his coffee ended up wearing it, and is now coughing uncontrollably and hitting his fist against his chest reflexively.

Poor guy. Wait, you did _not_ just think that. Because you should just be laughing your ass off now. Fuck, she is making you soft.

Wonder if she ever did a number like that on him? That thought makes you start to feel jealous, and you try fight that feeling back down, telling yourself she'd be married to him now if she wanted him. When did you start being jealous of Chase?

Thirteen breaks out laughing at Chase. Foreman rolls his eyes then goes back to his case file. Taub suddenly looks like he has been left out of a joke. "What's so funny about House hiring a hooker? Did I miss something?" He asks.

"Only that the hooker's name is Allison Cameron and I've been dating her for a month. We're buying a house together and, obviously, she sometimes feels like she missed her calling in law enforcement, so I do what I can to help her scratch that itch."

No need to keep playing this hiding game. Cuddy knows now and so you've lost your last reason to maintain this cloak of secrecy. One can practically see the puzzle pieces being placed in Taub's mind as his mouth slowly forms a silent 'Oh.' Then he looks around the room, and figures out the next peice.

"Wait?" Chase exclaims with a nasal tone as he still tries to recover from snorting his coffee. "You're buying a house? Together? Already? You've only been together a month! Unless that was a load of bullshit!"

"Sorry to disappoint, but some relationships move faster than others." That was a low blow, but honestly you've coddled him for long enough. It's been a fucking year since the non-wedding. Time for Chase to move on.

Taub has a moment of denial "You all knew and didn't tell me? No. Wait. This is just a joke. Isn't it?"

"Of all the things I'd prank you with, lying to you about dating Cameron wouldn't really make the list. I'm way better at coming up with epic pranks than that. Besides, have a fucking look at Chase. You really think he's playing along? Because, if you do, I am not sure why the fuck I hired such a fucking idiot."

With that you head out of your office and go look for something else fun to do.

Telling Taub was amusing, except for the Chase part, but to be fair, that was a timebomb waiting to happen. You are half tempted to shout the news you are dating Allison Cameron in the lobby, except that last time you made such a public announcement about your personal life it had been about a hallucination. Besides, why even care if people who barely know you know about your relationship?

A better way is to just start acting like her boyfriend. No need to shy away from kissing her or holding her hand around the hospital. Actually, the idea of that is kind of nice. Still having no case, you decide to visit the ER and see if Allison can cook one up for you. If nothing else you can mess with her a little and let the cat out of the bag. Even though, of all the departments, you are pretty sure the people in the ER will be the least surprised. You've spent far too much time in her office with the door locked of late.

As luck would have it you run into Cuddy just as you exit the elevator. Great.

"Dr. House." She says flattly. Gone is the tone that challenges you to play your little game with her.

"Cuddy." You answer back, as she enters the elevator car you just exited.

Well, that was weird. But not as bad as you had feared. Obviously she's not happy about the development, but perhaps she's just going to go the route of putting up the professional wall. If so, good. You didn't expect her to invite you over for a couples' dinner to tell you how happy she is for the both of you. However, she could be making both your lives hell about now, so you'll take cool and detached.

You can handle a wall, because that can come back down in time and maybe you can get back to just being the old House and Cuddy. The guy who loves to goad his boss and the boss who loves to stick it to her rebellious, yet genius, employee. You like that dynamic. It works for you.

It was a mutual decision to hold off gifting the book to her. It just seemed like you'd be pushing your relationship in her face as soon as you got the chance, instead of it being the friendly gesture you had intended it to be. Fucking fate. Screwed you over yet again.

Shaking off thoughts of Cuddy, you return your focus to finding Cameron as you turn and head down the hallway to the ER.

You find her hanging behind the nurses' station laughing and talking with Rebecca and a couple of other nurses. Leaning over the counter you steal the obligatory sucker, unwrap it and start practically fucking it with your mouth. After a few seconds, Cameron looks up at you, and takes in the show for a moment before you wink and pull it from your lips with a pop.

"Got a case for me? If not, wanna make out in your office?"

The nurses all roll their eyes at you and splinter off to do their work. Save Rebecca, who hangs back to talk. "I'm going to put a camera in her office and sell the porn on the internet. Just so you know. If I am going to cover up your little, or wait, not-so-little" she winks at you "escapades, the least I can do is turn a profit."

You grin wickedly back at her and then leer at Allison "I'm game if you are." Then place the sucker back in your mouth.

She leans in and speaks softly "You do have a porn sized prick." then pulls the candy from your lips and licks it, thrusts in between her lips a few times then, sucks it all the way in.

"Okay guys. Stop rubbing your amazing sex life in my face. Well, no. Tell me all about it later. But can you tone down the work PDA? Some of us don't have a convenient outlet for the sexual frustration at work."

You chuckle at her and turn to Allison again. "Seriously though. Got a case? The team is coming up with shit and Cuddy isn't talking to me today and I am just not in any mood to deal with the clinic."

"If you are really that bored, we can always use an extra hand here."

"Nice try, but the only department I am willing to lend a hand to is the one between your legs."

"Later then, House. I've got to get back to work." With that she puts the sucker back in your mouth and walks around the station. You walk forward and call to her, and toss the candy in the trash. When she turns you put a hand on her arm and lean down to kiss her cheek. She looks at you with a pleasant little half grin, then you wink, turn and limp off. Out of the corner of your eye you see the turned heads of a couple of staff members and at least one person pull out money from a pocket and place it in the out stretched hand of another.

Score.

* * *

Five o'clock finally rolls around and still no case. Oh well, you knocked out a fuck ton of levels on Angry Birds, so all was not lost. Time to head back to the ER to check the status of Allison's evening so you can figure out dinner.

She's in the waiting area talking to a couple of freaked out guys who look to be college aged. Their faces are grim and they only nod as she talks to them. You hang back, wondering if she is delivering the news that whomever they are here for has died. A moment later, she turns and starts to walk toward you and a second later she sees you and gives you a tired look.

"Bad?" You ask.

"Yeah." She says. Stopping when she reaches you, crossing her arms and tucking her hands under her armpits. "Fucking stupid kids, doing stupid shit that nearly kills someone. They dared their friend to drink about a quart of soy sauce."

"Christ. That has to be in the running for a fucking Darwin award."

"Yeah he comes in presenting with seizures. We give him anti-seizure meds, kid goes into a coma. I come out and start grilling those morons and get the story. We began flushing the salt out of his system and we'll see how it goes. When we placed the tube, streaks of brown just came pouring out."

Shaking her head she continues. "He's not responding to any stimuli at this point. Goddammit, some days I just hate this fucking job."

Normally you'd mouth off a snarky remark, even to Allison. She knows you and doesn't take your snark as anything other than the banter it is… most of the time. But you know this look. Now is not one of those times. She's wiped out and you love her enough to be very unlike yourself and keep your comments at bay, instead electing to tuck a stray piece of hair, that has fallen out of her very messy ponytail, behind her ear. This earns you a small smile.

Right choice.

"You should pull rank and come home early. Skip the work shower, and take a long hot bath with one of those cool bath bomb thingies. I'll cook you something that will give your mouth an orgasm and then I use my mouth to give your body an orgasm and maybe I'll toss in a back and foot massage, because I'm a great fucking boyfriend."

That earns you a real smile which begs you to lean down and kiss it. Damn it feels good to not care if anyone sees you kiss her anymore. What's especially cool is you never really talked to her about being more open, she just goes with it. It's a gentle but deep kiss. Breaking away, you plant one last peck on her lips. "I take it that's a yes?"

"Yeah. Thanks, House. I'll see you at home."

* * *

True to your word, you head to the grocery and plan a succulent meal. When you get home, you hear the water running. You head straight to the kitchen and start working. It's oh so very tempting to walk down the short hallway and into the bathroom, to observe her deliciously naked body. However, the newness starting to wear off affords a degree of patience. You'll have her tonight. No rush.

Moroccan salmon with a nectarine couscous was a favorite dish you learned in your cooking class. It's been far too long since you made it. You toss a rose wine in the fridge to chill and start making culinary magic. The nicest part about this recipe is it's quick, half an hour tops from prep to plate.

The timing is perfect and just as you are cutting the heat to your grilling pan, Allison takes a seat at the bar wearing your pink button down, looking far more relaxed. Damn. Why are women so fucking sexy when they wear your clothes? Focus, man. The pan is still hot, you don't want to ruin dinner on the final step.

Plating the salmon, you wink to your girlfriend, then turn your attention to plating the couscous. You have two wine glasses already laid out and you place the plates on the bar and retrieve the wine from the fridge. "Hey, little girl! Wait for everyone to sit at the table before you stuff your face." You tease as she salivates over the dish and tries to sneak a bite.

"But it smells so good." she whines. It's cute. She rarely plays the juvenile, that's normally your gig, which makes her the de facto adult, which makes the age gap feel less dirty, at least to you. But tonight you don't mind conceding the role, for a few moments anyway.

Popping the cork, you pour each of you a glass, place the bottle back in the fridge and join her at the bar. "Can I eat now, Daddy?" She pouts to you with her adorable lip pushed out.

"Yes, little girl." You give her a peck on the lips that turns hot and heavy in a heartbeat. A moment later you pull back, again forcing yourself to be the adult, however odd that is. "Don't let it get cold. It won't be nearly as good."

She takes a bite and you enjoy the face she makes. "Damn. Greg. Oh my God." She moans, mouth full, as she savors it.

Mouth orgasm. Check.

As you eat and make a few small come faces of your own, (you are one damn fine cook afterall) you let your eyes roam down her body to view her beautiful legs, and… oh hells yes, no underwear. Maybe the newness isn't _that_ worn off yet. Truthfully, you hope that feeling of lust you get when you notice these kinds of things never goes away.

Neither of you talks much, preferring companionable silence as you eat. One thing you love about her is she doesn't feel the need to always fill the silence between you. It's never uncomfortable. It's just good to be together.

You take your plates, as she finishes up her second pour of wine, and place them in the dishwasher. She joins you a moment later and reaches for a pan to help with the clean up. "Hey, you're supposed to be unwinding." You tell her.

"Yeah, but if I help, we get to the part with _your mouth_ on _my body_ much, much, faster." She says to you with a low and sexy tone.

"My girl."

"I am."

With that you let her help you clean up and in a few minutes she leads the way to the bedroom, unbuttoning her, well technically your, shirt as she walks. It falls from her shoulders as soon as she enters the room and you get your favorite view again. Yeah, not sure the newness will ever wear off of that ass.

* * *

Lying on the couch in your tee shirt and loose pajama pants, she fingers your hair lazily as you try to settle down and snooze. It's not a lack of being tired. You just can't get more than a couple hours of restful sleep. "You know, the melatonin you've been taking would probably help you more if you took it a couple of hours _before_ you want to sleep and not a few hours _after_."

She makes a good point. "Probably." You conceed, but make no attempt to move. It's too comfortable here, head on lap, fingers in hair, bossa nova on the stereo.

"I can get it for you." She offers.

"No… don't move. At least give me until the end of the next song." You beg, eyes still closed.

Affirmation comes in the form of the continuation of the affectionate stroking of your hair. She starts tracing your facial features. Eyebrows. Eyelashes. Nose. Lips. Then a few strokes to your beard before moving back to your hair.

A few moments later, your time is up and you groan as she pushes you up and rises to fetch the melatonin. A minute later she is back and you are popping the chewable tablets in your mouth and crunching them like candy, then you resume your positions and she continues her relaxing ministrations.

"Are you sure you are okay?" she prods again.

"I'm fine." You lie again, knowing there is only so long she's going to accept that for an answer. She loves you. She's observant. You taught her. She might already suspect you're off your meds, but wants you to come to her and only is willing to provide an opening for you to tell her at this point.

"Time is it?" You mumble a few minutes later, as you hear the start of what you know is the last tune on the CD.

"10:30."

"Bed after the CD ends?"

"'Kay."

* * *

You do sleep a little better and your wakeup call is the pleasant weight of Allison as she snuggles up to your side, laying her head on your left shoulder, her arm over your waist and her leg over yours. Raising your hand you play with her hair that is now spilling over your shoulder, picking up a group of strands then letting them fall.

"Sleep better?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

She gets up a moment later, her work day always starts before yours, leaving you to snooze. An hour or so later, as you hear the front door shut and lock you sit up and do your morning ritual. Leg rub down, motrin from bedside drawer, up and to the bathroom for a piss.

After a bowl of cereal, you get dressed and head off to work on your bike.

As luck would have it, you run into Cuddy in the main lobby. She looks up at you and gives you a curt nod, before turning about face and heading into her office.

Fuck this. Follow her.

Walking into her office before she can even make it to the desk, you hear her groan as she rounds the corner of the desk, and takes a seat. "What is it House?"

"Do we really have to do this?" You ask.

"I don't know. Do we?"

Rolling your eyes you sit heavily in the chair across from her.

"Look, we were going to tell you. Actually we'd planned to tell you yesterday, but then Saturday happened."

"Hey… it's your business House. You aren't in the same department anymore, so there's no conflict of interest, so it's really not an issue for the hospital. You should still let HR know at some point."

"We were going to do that when we move into the house and change our addresses." She tries to maintain a neutral expression, but you know her too well and you can see the slight grimace in her eyes. Funny how she doesn't quite enjoy the shoe being on the other foot.

"Sounds like you've got everything covered then. Now if you don't mind, I have a hospital to run."

She picks up the phone and starts dialing and you just don't have the energy or desire to fuck with her. Maybe you should. Maybe just get things back to the way they were before you got into each other's heads too much. Problem is you know exactly how this wound feels. Allison is right. Part of Cuddy never closed the door all the way on the idea of you and she doesn't like the idea that you appear to have shut that door yourself.

You raise your eyebrows and stand.

She continues to ignore you and starts into a conversation with whomever she dialed as you walk out. Well, so much for trying to smooth things over. There is only so much nice you can dole out in work day and you don't want to waste it all before you've even had coffee.

You skip your office and head straight for Wilson's. Swinging the door open, you barge in unannounced and plop on his couch. "Please, come in take a seat. Can I offer you something to drink, or a snack perhaps?" Your friend says sarcastically, not looking up from his paperwork.

"Is Cuddy giving you the cold shoulder?"

"I heard she's been in a mood, and since I have a good idea why, I've gone out of my way to avoid her the last two days. But it hasn't been that hard to do, so… _maybe_?" He answers. Still working on his file.

"Well, she's gone all high and mighty Dean of Medicine with me. Barely will say a word to me. I even went into her office and tried to smooth things over, but she just hid behind her bestest boss face and made everything I said about the hospital."

"She just needs some time. Give it a week to sink in and she'll realize it's actually a good thing. Actually, she probably already knows it is, just doesn't want to admit it. Lucas is good for her. She hasn't had a relationship this good since… ever. And she knows you are happy. Part of her is probably just asking herself if you could have done this well if she had given you the chance with her.

"She's not a risk taker. You were too much of a risk for her, and even though part of her wanted it, the pragmatic part won out. It's like she walked away from the tables having won her first big bet because she didn't have the guts to let it ride and the next round would have hit for her. She only has regrets because Allison took the risk and it is paying off so far. If you were still alone and miserable she wouldn't have to feel like she missed out."

You nod. Cuddy was always one for second guessing herself. You have your life regrets, so you can understand. It just makes everything about work feel off again, just when you had finally gotten over the awkward dynamic with her. Hopefully she gets back to normal soon. It isn't helping with your grand experiment to ditch the meds.

At least you got some sleep last night. Allison's suggestions and her attention were just what you needed. Soothing music, sleep aid earlier, her loving hands petting and soothing you after you both administered full body massages on the other.

Both of you getting a happy ending.

You can make it through this. Hopefully last night was a turning point.

* * *

 _Notes: Atavares thank you for being just as obsessed with googling Hugh Laurie as I am. That manip of Cameron and House doing the naughty on the couch was outrageously awesome and inspiring._


	29. Comfortably Numb

**Chapter 29: Comfortably Numb**

Allison Cameron can hear the music blaring from her apartment as soon as she gets out of her car. She is not surprised. She's here because her landlord called about a complaint, because Foreman cornered her as she returned from the site and because Greg didn't answer any calls or texts, otherwise she'd still be dealing with the crisis at the ER.

Her heart is racing, instinctively knowing this is bad.

Opening the door, she takes in the chaos before her. A nearly empty fifth of Jim Beam and white pills spilled out from an overturned prescription bottle sit atop her coffee table. A figure is lying in the floor between the couch and table; her horrible gut feeling confirmed.

"Greg!" She shakes the filthy man lying on his back before her in the floor of their small apartment. Music from Pink Floyd's _The Wall_ still blaring in the background, ironically in the middle of the _Comfortably Numb_ track.

His pulse is slow, but steady. 'I should probably try to get him to purge.' she thinks to herself as she rolls him to his side and grabs the cushions off the couch to help keep him propped that way. Just in case he pukes on his own, he won't drown in his own vomit.

"Goddammit!" She cries out in fear and frustration, "This is all my fault," grabs the remote and turns off the stereo to prevent the complaint from escalating to a call to the police. That's the last thing they need.

Her mind wants to shut down and cry, but the ER doctor has kicked in and so the scared and empathic little girl is told to 'back the fuck off,' so the ER doctor can work. She heads to the kitchen, grabs a deep pan and brings it back to the living room.

"Okay, Greg baby. Can you hear me? I need you to try to sit up, baby." She tugs at his arm, but to no avail. She's too tired and he's too heavy. She'll have to grab a sheet and use her engineering skills.

A moment later she is back with a sheet, twisting it loosy at its longest length she proceeds to weave it under his armpits and around his chest and now has leverage to hoist him to a seated position against the front of the couch. "Okay. That wasn't so bad." Now the really fun part.

 _Slap!_

She strikes him across the face in an attempt to wake him. Then shakes him from the shoulders. His eyelids open a sliver, but the eyes are still rolled back. His pulse is still acceptable.

"Come on, Greg." She pets his sweaty hair. "Neither of us wants me to have to call 911. You'll lose your license again."

A moment later, she forces him to purge and is glad. He has not compensated for his loss of tolerance and what was still in his stomach would have made things far worse.

He looks up at her with glassy and unfocused eyes. He should feel something but just like the song says, he has become comfortably numb. She fades from focus and everything is dark again.

* * *

 **Nine Hours Earlier**

Sliding open your desk drawer, you pull out the book, open the front cover and read the inscription.

 _Lisa and Lucas,_

 _Here's to a new chapter…_

 _Best,_

 _Greg and Allison_

Taking a deep breath you place it a manila folder and send a text off to Allison. "Meet you in her office in 5"

"K" She replies and you stand up and make your way to Cuddy's office.

You had heard through Wilson that Cuddy and Lucas had been fighting early in the week. He had even put off his moving into the new house. However, they've apparently now made up and he has started moving in again. Her demeanor today and her finally wearing the engagement ring to work would support this intel. She even ran you down this morning and sentenced you to the clinic as penance for still having no case.

Finally.

Never thought you'd think that now, did ya?

It's a good window of opportunity to give her the book. Allison agrees, wanting nothing more than to close this chapter and move on.

Her office is empty when you arrive. It's late, and no one attempts to prevent your entrance. You start to take a seat on the couch to wait for Allison and Cuddy, but the pressure in your bladder begs you to visit her restroom. Inside you close, but don't latch the door, toss the package on the back of the tank, unzip, and aim. Finishing, you shake, tuck and zip back up and even close the lid, which you think is a really nice touch.

Before you can get to the sink to wash your hands you hear the door to the office and Allison's voice bleeds through the crack in the bathroom doorway, filled with agitation.

"...to see how any of this is really any of _your_ business."

"House is my friend, I think you and I are friends. I'm just concerned you're moving too quickly."

"We're basically living together anyway as it is. My apartment is more or less a big closet and half my stuff is still in storage. House doesn't want to move back to his place. Wilson's place isn't really an option for House now that Sam has moved in. Neither of us wants to move twice and neither of us wants to rent, so why not buy together?"

"Okay. And I'd agree with all of that logic if it were a normal guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!" Alison's voice is dripping with venom.

You really should go out there and break this up, but you are riveted, so instead you remain still and listen.

"I mean he's _House_ , Allison. You know _exactly_ what I mean." There's a short pause, and you imagine ice daggers flying from Allison's eyes, but you can't see anything through the small crack. "I get the attraction. I even get loving him. I know you know that's not news, and believe me I've even tried to throw my better judgment to the wind on more than one occasion, but at the end of the day, don't you want a guy you can count on? Someone you don't have to worry about crashing and burning and dragging you down as he goes?"

Cuddy's words hit you like a ton of bricks embedded with razorblades. Knowing she probably thinks those things is one thing. Hearing the words come out of her mouth is quite another. You step back and sit on the toilet lid, staring into nothing as they continue to argue.

"Don't you dare make this about him. This is about _you_ still being in love with him and you aren't sure if you love the man you're with as much."

"So now you're going to make it about me and drag Lucas into it? Very mature, Dr. Cameron. I see being with House is already starting to rub off."

"Fuck this."

"You had a great thing with Chase. He would have being a wonderful husband and a great father, but you let your impulses about House cloud your judgement. But don't think your lack of better judgment gives you the right to presume you know anything about my feelings for Lucas. I do love him and Rachel loves him. He's what we need."

Cuddy continues "I know you love House and I know why you want him. He's incredible, sexy and even charming when he's doing well, but how long do you really think that will last? Can House really be what any sane woman, who wants a husband and a father for their children, needs?"

Your eyes are burning, your heart is pounding, it feels like you've forgotten how to breath. She's fucking right. You are a fucking mess. Allison deserves so much better than you. You've already fucked everything up. It's clear you're not ready to live without the meds, but your stubbornness keeps you from getting back on track.

Any good and sane person would keep on the path. Things were good. Why are you dragging the person you love more than anything down with you? And kids. Yeah. Like they deserve a guy like you. Unstable as fuck.

"How fucking dare you!" An incredibly pissed Allison yells back. "You don't have any fucking idea what an amazing man Greg is. All _you_ care to see is the wall he has so carefully built up around him. And you are happy to lay a few more layers of bricks on it while you're admiring it! Every single time he finds a sliver of happiness, a few days with no pain, you decide 'This can't be right. There can't be a _happy_ House. It can't happen, so let's figure out a way to drag his ass back down so we can keep the status quo for the fucking hospital.'

"You twist his mind into believing the shit you're serving because for some fucking reason he trusts you! What a fucking joke. You talk about _him_ dragging women down. Name one fucking woman he's dragged down?

"Stacy?

"Umm, let me see... Ah nope. He trusted her and she conspired with you behind his back to let you butcher him.

"You?

"Oh, sure he might have broken your heart in college, but it was fucking college. One night stands happen. But he puts his trust in you now and let's see what the scorecard says there. Hmm… going along with Stacy, despite knowing what Greg wanted, oh, and don't even fucking try to tell me you were saving his fucking life! I'm a fucking doctor, and I know better. You still had fucking time to let him have a choice and his plan, as crazy as it was, it was still _his_ plan and he is _House_ and that means he was probably right.

"Let's not stop there, shall we. How about letting Vogler bully him? Or the whole Tritter situation? Oh sure, in the end you came around, but you really enjoyed watching him suffer. How about his first case after he came back from being shot? When he was doubting he could still be himself while being sober and not in pain _and_ while having actual _empathy_ for a patient. He was doing everything you've ever said you've wanted him to do, but you let him believe he failed! And he went back down the hole.

"And don't think for one minute I don't regret following your orders on that one. I hate myself every time I think about it.

"Or how about when he was able to manage his pain with Methadone? Honestly, you just couldn't let him go? Let him have a shot at getting his life turned around?

" _Your_ idea of _loving_ him is _controlling_ him and since you know at the end of the day you'll never really be able to do that, you just leave him hanging on. Leading him on just enough to keep him hopeful, but not enough that he'll move on.

"But he went and fucked that plan up for you. And it just _burns_ you. So now you're trying to control me so you can control him. Well fuck that and fuck you! I not only _want_ Greg, I _need_ him. If he wants to get married, fine. If he doesn't, fine. If he wants to have kids, I think he'll be a great father, but if not, I am happy with the two of us. I can't remember the last time I was this fucking happy. So you can…"

A pager buzzes interrupting Allison's scathing arguments in your defense and a second later Cuddy's phone starts ringing. You see a shadow pass by the door crack and then hear someone leave the room. Most likely Allison.

She fucking loves you. She's happy with you. She'd marry you. She thinks you'll be a great father.

Her words spin around in your head. All the times you had needed help from Cuddy, all the trust you had in her suddenly feels like it's all been in your head and the reality is quite different. Hearing it all from Allison's perspective makes everything that Cuddy said hurt even more and you didn't think that was possible.

You can hear Cuddy talking on the phone, but her words don't register. You need her to leave so you can get the fuck out of here. You've not wanted to run this badly since you were a boy dealing with a father who thought controlling you would help make a man of you. It's like being a trapped animal. Your eyes burn, cheeks are wet, you hadn't even realized you were crying until now.

The door pushing open brings your mind out of itself. Looking up you see Cuddy raising her head as she wipes her cheek and then her eyes meet yours. Her mouth forms an 'H' but can't even speak, however, her look speaks volumes. Shock, guilt, embarrassment, sadness, hurt. You imagine your eyes are like windows now as well. Neither of you are prepared or able to put your guard up.

After what seems like an eternity you stand and take the package from the back of the tank. "We were meeting here to give you this. I just needed to take a piss."

Taking the package she opens it, still in shock, the act is mostly reflexive. "My great-grandfather?" She reads the inscription and looks back up to you. "You are giving this to _us_?"

"We wanted to give it to you when we told you. Then we were hoping to just… I don't even know."

"House, what I said… I… I didn't…"

"Don't. Just… Don't." You look down and shake your head, then swallow hard. "This thing with us was never going to work."

Looking back up, she can only nod back, tears starting to stream down her face again. You take a step forward and she moves to the side to let you pass. As you do, her hand reaches out to rest on your arm. You look down at it, then back to her. It's her way of apologising. All you can do is look forward again, and as you do her hand drops and you walk away without looking back and exit her office to find Allison.

The hustle and bustle of the hospital is washed out to the background, you reach the ER on instinct alone, somewhere in the back of your mind you register the questioning looks from a few people who look up at you as they pass but none dare ask. Her office is your first stop. Finding it empty, you head to the nurse's station. Looking past it as you approach, you find the ER is a swarm of activity. After a moment's pause, staring into the ER, a familiar voice calls out to you.

"House…" The word worms it's way into your brain, but no reaction follows. "Greg?" You look over then. Rebecca looks concerned. "Hey, are you okay?"

You shake your head and force your brain back to the moment. Pull it together, man! "Allison?"

"She's on an ambulance heading to Trenton. A huge construction crane collapsed into a building. It's a major trauma scene. We've called every available doctor not currently on duty here to work here or to work the location. She'll be heading up the triage unit there." She's still looking you over with a keen eye. "What happened? Did you guys fight? You both look wrecked."

"I need the address." Is all the answer you'll give her. There's no time now. She'll just have to deal with not knowing for a while.

* * *

You're able to weave your bike past the roadblocks and police crews and farther into the disaster area. It's dark, but the rescuers have portable lights illuminating the area. Rubble is everywhere, the large crane lies on its side, people wander around in a daze, bodies lie on the ground, EMTs, doctors and emergency rescuers attend the injured and rate them for triage.

Jack hammers rattle loudly in the background, sirens blare as ambulances and fire trucks come and go, news helicopters fly overhead, people yell orders. Among the voices, you hear Allison bark out "Rodgers, you take charge of area three, Foreman you assist area two. Daniels, you're with me in area one." You follow the sound until you see her standing behind an ambulance dressed in blue coveralls. She looks up and sees you as you approach.

"House. I'm going to need you here with me in area one." It's all business right now. In fact you are rather impressed. The Cameron you hired couldn't flip the switch like that. She'd get through it, but the person before you is in full control of the situation. She has grown into a leader working in the ER. "Expectants stay where they are. Immediates stay put, but are logged by a site worker to get the next available ambulance out. Delayed go to area five and minor area six." She points to the direction of each station as she explains the triage setup. Nodding in understanding you grab a set of gloves and a light from the equipment area and get to work. Your personal life is just going to have to be put on hold.

You walk to the end of a line of people in various positions, some lying, others sitting a few standing and start working through them yelling instructions off to a site worker as you go and leaving them to direct the injured to their final destination. As you work on a girl with head trauma, you hear the voice of Cuddy. "Dr. Cameron, Jacobs got me up to speed and directed me here. Where do you need me?"

Cameron directs her and she starts attending. If you hadn't been in the office, you'd have no idea that they had been in a shouting match less than thirty minutes ago. They both look rough, but this late in the day with this kind of crisis, no one would think it is anything more than being tired.

You shift your focus back "Can you hear me?" you ask the girl.

"Hmm?"

As you continue your examination and test the girl in front of you for a concussion. you listen in on Cuddy's conversation with her patient. "Sir, we have to get you to the OR You have a bad wound, but we're gonna pack it and transport you as fast as we can."

Finishing up, you instruct the worker taking notes, "Skull fracture. Glasgow coma score of eleven. She's immediate," and start to wander over toward Cuddy. She's out of practice or just not observant. You know the man won't make it, but it's not entirely because of his injuries. Looking at his toes gives you the evidence. Atherosclerotic emboli. He'll never survive surgery. You only make it a step before Cameron pulls Cuddy to the side and speaks to her softly. Cuddy protests for a moment before agreeing with whatever Cameron said. Moving to her assistant worker you hear her tell him "He's expectant. Leave him."

Damn, Cameron _has_ gotten really good.

"House!" You look over to Cameron as she calls your name. "Got a call. Can you help Foreman in area two?" With a nod, you head over to the area closest to the center of the crane collapse.

As you approach, Foreman and a number of EMTs are in the final stages of extracting the crane operator from the cab. "I only nodded off for a second. I lost control of the load. I'm so sorry."

Foreman tries to calm the man "Don't worry. We're gonna get you outta here."

"I'm sorry." he continues to mutter.

An EMT puts a strap around the man's head to secure the neck brace and Foreman finishes making sure he is secured. "He's secure."

"Ready? Three, two, one." The EMTs lift the driver out of the cab and load him onto a stretcher.

Foreman looks to you as you step in next to him. "Crane operator. Made it through amazingly well. Lucid and responsive. Stable fracture, right humerus. Haven't gotten to his lower half yet."

You start examining his lower body "Tell me when something hurts," as Foreman splints his arm.

"I fell asleep, killed all those people."

"Something other than your conscience." You feel something in his pocket. "Is that a pill in your pocket, or are you just happy to have a tiny pill-shaped penis?" you quip as you pull out the packet of pills. "Caffeine pills. You fell asleep taking these?"

That's bizarre and it causes your brain to actually kick in. There is more to this guy than just a tired, overworked man who fell asleep on the job.

"I drank two cups of coffee too." It gets more interesting.

"Is that normal for you?" You ask, now fulling engrossed in the puzzle.

"No, I hate coffee. I'm working on no sleep. My daughter has the flu."

Looking to Foreman "This much caffeine for a coffee virgin. There's no way he fell asleep. He passed out. Which means a neurological disorder caused the crash, not fatigue."

You yell over to Cameron "Hey. We're taking the crane operator back to Princeton."

Cuddy cuts in "They said he was barely hurt—he can wait."

You instruct Foreman, despite Cuddy's instructions, perhaps just to spite them. "Steal an ambulance. And call the team. Tell 'em we got a case."

"House. No!" She continues.

At that moment Cameron pipes in. "Cut the shit you two. This is my scene. Foreman, take the Crane operator back. House, you stay. I need everyone we can spare here. There were over 100 people in that building. Only 76 have been accounted for. Foreman and your team can handle the crane operator for now."

You have your suspicions that she doesn't want to be left here alone with Cuddy. You can't blame her. So despite your brain's urge to bury itself in a new puzzle and get some relief from the emotional turmoil of this shit day, you stay because you love her and she needs you.

Behind the women you see the man Cuddy was working on earlier being covered fully by a sheet. You and Cameron were right. He was never going to make it.

* * *

You're still having trouble keeping the events from earlier in the evening off your mind, with your puzzle back at the hospital and you left with triage duty. You need to talk this one out. That's not going to happen anytime soon with Allison. Maybe Wilson. He's probably home by now.

You pull your phone out and hit the shortcut to dial his number.

" _Having fun down there?"_ he asks from what sounds like the ER. Guess he got stuck on double duty as well.

"Loads. Every time Cameron bends over I get a great little view of her ass." Moving through a part of the building that is still standing, you find a vending machine. You manage to read, through the dirt, the words 'Cold Drinks' and see some snack bars inside as well. They look fucking amazing to you right about now. Afterall, looks like you're not getting dinner tonight. Transferring your cane to the hand that also holds the phone, you dig in your pocket for coins.

"So something happened on the way to give Cuddy her gift today. I went in her bathroom to take a piss and…" Suddenly releasing that the machine isn't going to dispense with no power, you opt to break the glass with your cane as you talk, which startles Wilson.

" _What was that? You okay?"_

Reaching into the machine to take a snack bar, you joke "Yeah. Vending machine collapsed." Looking around what appears to have once been a lounge, you find a chair covered in dirt and take a seat and prop your cane next to you.

"Anyway, while I was in there, Allison and Cuddy come in together and they don't sound friendly. So I decided to stay put and…"

 _Clang_

What was that? You definitely heard something clanging. "I gotta go." You hang up without further preamble and rub your leg a few times as you listen. Hearing another clang you get up and follow the sound. Pausing in front of a pile of concrete you wait again, listening intently. A third clank rings out, even closer this time. Turning toward one of the rescue workers you call out "Hey! There's somebody down here!"

* * *

A small group of rescuers, Cameron and yourself huddle around a piece of sensory rescue equipment looking for any sign that the noises you heard came from a person buried on some level beneath the rubble. The clanging noise stopped and everything is quiet. Rescue dogs maneuver about the area as well, but so far nothing.

After a while, the fire and rescue captain speaks up. "I'm not getting anything."

"I heard something—there's gotta be a void down there," you answer.

"There's a million voids down there. It was the parking garage. But equipment hasn't picked up any movement. Dogs haven't picked up any scent."

You know what you heard and you trust the feeling in your gut, because that feeling is rarely wrong. There is someone down there. Alive, trapped and terrified. Why can't these people do their damn jobs?!

"There's smashed cars down there. The gasoline throw off their scent?" You prod, willing them to continue the search.

The captain, however, has already decided. "Look, we gotta get back to work, okay? We'll get to this area soon. Excuse me." And with that, a whistle shrills twice and the group of workers break up and the other work in the area resumes.

"I know what I heard," you say to Cameron, who has stayed behind with you.

She looks up to you and puts a hand on your arm. That look. What is that look?

"I know it's fucked up. But you of all people understand, we won't be able to save everyone. Even if you're right, and you probably are, we can't let twenty other people die to save one."

When the hell did she become so logical? So calm in the face of a tragic death? Cameron of all people should be first in line to climb under the building and save the one that can't be saved. The realization leaves you with even more mixed emotions to pile on top of the emotional hurricane of the day. Your left brain is proud of her. Your right brain mourns the loss of the girl you hired, the one you secretly respected, but doubted would survive the job long.

With that, she leaves you and returns to her focus to triage, knowing you need some time to process and knowing you're going to do what you need to do.

With the flashlight you'd managed to procure from the rescuers earlier, you continue to look around the area. A pipe sticks up from out of the ground. Approaching it, you bang it with your cane and it sounds exactly like the clanging your heard earlier. Following the pipe with your light, you find a space big enough to crawl into. Well, if those mother fuckers can't do their job, guess a cripple with have to do in a pinch.

Crawling into the hole, you shine the light around a small void in the rubble and call out "Anybody hear me? Hey! Anybody hear me?" You hear nothing but some falling debris and the workers outside. This is fucked up and no place for a cripple to be crawling around. Hell this is no place for anyone, able body or no, to be crawling around.

You should just turn around while you still know you'll have the room to back out. First rule of emergency training is to survey the scene, and not to put yourself in a place to cause there to have to be two rescues instead of one. But rules are for pussies anyway.

On you continue, into the narrow crawl space. Hoping you're not fucking yourself in the process, but the need to know is overwhelming now and you have to move forward.

After crawling a short distance, you come to a short incline and have room enough to swing your feet in front of you and then you slide down. At the bottom you come to a door, whose bottom half is completely covered in rubble. With your left leg, you kick it hard until it opens. Beyond it is a large void with enough room to squat. You start to edge forward, adrenaline masks the pain you should be feeling in your thigh, in this position. Using your cane, almost like a blind man, you poke it forward through the darkness and dust.

"Ah! Auhh," you call out, freaked for a moment, as a hand grabs your cane unexpectedly in the darkness. Your heart races and you breath hard as you point the light towards the end of your cane.

It's a woman. African American, lying on her back covered in dirt, cuts on her face, her work suit grey with pulverized cement dust, her right leg completely pinned under a fallen beam of concrete. Her teeth are chattering and her eyes wince at the light as she mutters "Help me."

You scoot up to sit beside her and start checking her vitals. "What's your name?"

She coughs and tells you "Please...my husband's gift. I was supposed to pick it up at the framers. It's on Elm."

It's always amazing what people think when in shock. "Well, you should have told me earlier. I could have picked it up on the way. What's your name?" you ask again.

"It's a picture from our Tortola trip. For his birthday."

Maybe you should be more clear. Continuing to check her body, you explain "I'm not asking your name because I wanna become friends. I'm trying to gauge your mental state."

"Hanna," she finally answers.

"Okay, that's a start. What day of the week is it?"

"Tuesday."

"Better still." Good. Looks like her injuries, save her leg, are minor.

"What happened?" she asks as you look around. This area doesn't look like the most secure, but it at least seems to be holding for now.

"You know that giant construction crane next door? It's kind of on top of you right now. Okay, I'm gonna try to pull you out." Doubting it will work but obligated to at least try, you position yourself above her head, place the flashlight in your mouth and pull her by the armpits.

"Ow! My leg! Oh! Oh! Oh!" she cries out, in obvious pain.

"Okay, okay," you mutter as much to yourself as to her as you think of something, any solution to get her out of this. Shining the light around again, with a sigh, it is apparent you need reinforcements. Heavy equipment and manpower is the only thing going to save her now.

Letting out an audible exhale you tell her "I'm gonna need to get help."

Immediately she grabs at you, terrified. "No, stay! Someone else will come," she pleads.

It tears at you, but you give no outward sign of it. It will do her no good if you come off as panicked and you don't do flowery lies and smiles. Best to be detached and curt for both your sakes. "No one knows I'm down here."

"Please!" she cries out hoarsely. "Stay with me. Don't leave me in the dark."

"I'll be right back." It takes your left brain's full control, but you manage to crawl back out the way you came to get help. Knowing full well this is the only way. Willing back any emotion, you dig deep for your best jerk demeanor.

Behind you, you ignore her screams. "No! Don't leave me in the dark! Please stay!"

Once back to the surface you make your way back to area one. "Cameron!" you call out. She looks up. "I found the person making the noise. She's trapped, call the rescue crew again and tell 'em to do their damn job this time!"

She's on the horn in seconds and minutes later you've relayed the necessary information to the captain and his crew and they descend into the hole to save Hanna.

Fucking idiots.

Cameron gives you a proud look and you give a small smile back to her. Wishing you both could just get the fuck out of here. But that is wishful thinking. She is back to her work a few seconds later and you can't find it in yourself to deal with anymore fucking triage. So you decide to focus your mind on something it _can_ handle right now—the crane operator's diagnosis. Pulling out your phone, you call Foreman.

" _He's still in the ER House. We haven't had time to start a differential."_

You pop a squat on some rubble as rescue workers continue to swarm around the site. Yelling slightly to overcome the noise you answer "Perfect! Let's start right now. Put me on speaker. What causes syncope?"

Taub cuts in, annoyance in his voice. " _Your guy's stable. The two dozen other patients—"_

Interjecting, you shut him down. "Who don't need to be diagnosed. They just need to be bandaged. What causes syncope?" You need to solve this puzzle as much as the crane operator needs you to, who you are sure is working on borrowed time as it is. You start to rub your aching thigh as they finally start the differential.

Chase is first with " _Vasovagal reaction…"_ then Foreman with " _Meningioma, sick sinus syndrome"_ and finally Taub with " _Or you're wrong, and he just fell asleep."_ Fucking little prick.

"How's he gonna sleep with 50 cups of coffee going through his veins?"

Taub counters with " _Were you never a medical resident?"_

You're missing a lacky. "I hear ten, eleven, and twelve. Where's Thirteen?"

" _She's not here. And the answer to your next question is no. I don't know where she is."_ Foreman answers.

Funny how he thinks he can read your mind. "Do you have the answer to my question after that? Space-occupying lesion in his brain is most likely. MRI will prove I'm right."

Fucking Taub, still being difficult. " _Or it'll just prove he suffered head trauma from the crash."_

"Which we'd wanna find anyway. Two birds with one scan. Do it." You order and and hang up, done debating the matter, as an EMT approaches you.

"Having trouble finding a vein for Hanna's IV." He informs you.

"She getting weaker? Paler?"

"No, no. She's stable."

"That means her blood loss in minimal. Buys us some time. Get the IV into her tibia. It's almost hollow, feeds into the venous system." Getting a blank stare in return, it occurs to you that procedure is likely above his paygrade. "Which, they obviously don't teach you in EMT school."

Standing you grab his kit and head back to the tunnel. Sometimes you just can't call in a boy to do a man's job. Hanging your cane on an exposed piece of rebar, you bend down, and push the kit in front of you as you descend down the tunnel once more. A minute later you are back with Hanna, who now is surrounded with flood lights and rescue workers. The fire and rescue captain is attempting to break up the beam on Hanna's leg with a drill.

"Told ya I'd be back." You tell her in a cheery voice as you unzip the kit and pull out what you need. "Heard you might be thirsty."

Captain McCreaney stops drilling and takes off his safety goggles and mutters "Ahhh…"

"I assume that bodes well for the rescue?" you say to him.

"Structural beam. High compression concrete. I can't break it up."

That statement freaks Hanna out. "You can't get me outta here?" She cries out.

Reassuring her, McCreaney smiles down "Naw. Just means we gotta move on to a different piece of equipment. I got airbags comin' in that'll lift 70 tons."

You prepare her left leg to insert the IV. It's going to hurt like a mother, but nothing you can do about that really.

"What's your name?" she asks. Great, she wants to make small talk.

"You testing my mental state?" you tease back. Hoping she just leaves you to your work. You don't do bonding.

"I'm gonna be stuck down here for a while. I'd like somebody to talk to."

If she only knew who she was asking for friendship, she'd run, well, you know what you mean, anyway. "Look, the guy who just left is the one who's gonna be holding your hand through all this. You talk to him." It's cold, but it is for the best.

You unwrap the needle and tell her "Little pinch." A lie, of course, which she finds out in short order.

"Aah! Oh! Ow!" She screams out in pain.

"Okay. Big pinch."

As she calms back down she asks you. "I gotta call my husband. Can I use your phone?"

Now there is a horrible idea. The last thing her vitals need is for her to get emotional. She needs to keep her heart rate down.

Then it happens.

Fucking empathy.

Your brain pictures Allison lying there. Scared. Wanting to speak to you. And you, probably at home, wondering where the fuck she is. Calling. Texting. No answer. Maybe you see the news and know in your gut she is there. Maybe dying. Maybe dead.

No. Keep it together. It is still a fucking bad idea. The site workers will have called him by now—now that they know she is here and who she is. He'll be waiting on the surface when they get her out.

Hanging the IV bag on another piece of rebar you decide you need to get the fuck out of here. This isn't something you are good at. Especially not tonight.

"Uh, no bars down here," you lie as you make a hasty retreat. "L'chaim."

"Where are you going?" She cries out again and it eats at you.

"Don't worry. Fire marshal Bill will be back soon."

* * *

Back on the surface, you pass Cuddy as you wander back to area one to find Allison. Cuddy is bandaging a woman's knee. She looks up to you, and looks away again, tired and guilty. Moving past her, you continue around a corner and find your girlfriend. She's helping to hoist a patient onto an ambulance. Once in, she slams the doors, turns and walks to a cooler where there are bottles of water. Taking one she opens it and chugs back half in one drink, wiping her mouth with her arm to catch the water that managed to spill down her chin.

She looks shattered and she should be. Her day started 14 plus hours ago and shows no signs of letting up for the foreseeable future. You stop when you reach her and pull her into you. "Take five. It'll be the best thing for everyone involved."

"If I sit now, I may never get back up." She wraps her arms around you and buries her head in your chest. Neither of you gives a shit who sees.

You wonder if Cuddy told her about your being in the restroom. Is now even a time to bring this up? Probably not, but you'll be damned if she hears it from Cuddy.

"I need to tell you something."

She looks up at you with tired eyes and waits.

"I heard everything—from earlier. I went in Cuddy's bathroom to take a piss. I was in there when you came in. Then when you guys started fighting I just froze. I should have…"

"Shh." She soothes you. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. She just… the way she talks about you… I just saw red."

Hugging her tighter, you place a kiss on her head. Then it happens again. Images of her being trapped. You push them away. You can't do what has to be done if you see her in your patient.

"Cuddy walked in on me after you left. I could barely look at her. I felt like a fool. Everything you said was…" you are interrupted by the captain.

"'Scuse me. We're going to need a doctor down there. Things aren't going to be so simple as we first thought."

Looking up at you, she sees right through you. You don't want to go back down there. But she also knows that what you want isn't really an option. "We'll be down in a minute," she answers and he walks back towards the tunnel entrance.

"You look like you could use a consult."

Answering her with only a nod, she takes your hand as you turn to follow the captain.

* * *

Back underground you sit on Hanna's right and Allison on her left as Captain McCreaney explains the problem. "The way things fell, this support beam is now holding up a giant pile of rubble. We can't lift it without jeopardizing everyone down here. So it's time to discuss amputation."

Hanna cries out. "No."

Your head is really spinning now. Like hell they are cutting off her leg. There's still fucking time. Somewhere in the corner of your mind you know that Allison is taking her hand and speaking to her gently. "Hanna. I know this is upsetting and it's a shock, but there may be no other way…"

You interrupt and send a chilly look to Allison. How could she even agree?! "We are not cutting off her leg." Looking down at Hanna you assure her. "You don't have to rush through this to make his job easier." You motion back to the captain.

"You kidding me?" McCraney asks incredulously.

"Greg." You look over at her, and tilt your head at the use of your first name in this kind of work situation. Is she trying to manipulate you? After that speech even? This is a woman's fucking leg we are talking about. She isn't a fucking caged animal. No need for her to gnaw off her leg just yet!

"House," she corrects herself, seeing her mistake from the look you just sent. "If we leave her leg pinned for very much longer, we risk crush syndrome."

Hanna pipes in, not wanting to be left out of the discussion about saving her own limb. "What's that?"

"If the circulation to your leg is cut off for long enough, the muscles in your leg die."

"So what does that mean, like a limp?" Hanna interjects, trying to understand and not to lose her already waning composure.

"As the muscles die, they release toxins. When your leg is freed, those toxins can rush back into your body and that could stop your heart."

You can't even deal with this discussion. It is too close to home now. "So could cheeseburgers." Looking back to the Captain "Let's get your lazy friends to start moving that pile. She's got two more hours before crush syndrome could possibly set in."

Damn fucking straight. You'll be damned if she loses that leg a minute before it really is absolutely necessary.

"We're digging up there by hand. I can't guarantee I can get ten tons of debris pulled off in two hours."

"Well, you need to try. It's my leg."

McCreaney softens his voice and pleads with Hanna. "It's not just crush syndrome you gotta worry about, okay? There's gas leaks. There's fire. We can never rule out secondary collapses, no matter how much we shore this thing up."

You counter, "You think chopping off someone's limb inside a pile of dirty rocks is safe? Sepsis, fat embolism, a hemorrhage…"

"Those risks are nothing compared to the risk of this thing coming down again."

Tired of the argument, Cameron interrupts the debate. "Captain, it doesn't matter at this point. We can't cut the patient's leg off against her will. House is right, at least about the timing, she has a couple of hours before it becomes a medical necessity."

Sighing the Captain yields, not wanting to waste any more time. "Okay. We'll give it two hours," then moves from the area.

Cameron gives you a soft look, but you still haven't forgiven her completely, even though deep down you know she was just trying to do the right thing for Hanna. "I've got to get back up there." You nod and she is gone a moment later and you are left with Hanna.

"Thank you, Dr. House." She says with a sly smile as you check her IV, having overheard your name you'd refused to give her earlier.

"Just House is fine. You don't need to thank me. It just makes sense."

"Just promise me you won't let them cut off my leg." She begs.

You want more than anything to save her leg, but you also know that there is every chance it will still have to come off, and you won't lie to her in that way. So you cross your fingers so she can see and tell her what she wants to hear, hoping it helps put her at ease. "I promise. Does that make you feel better?"

"For some reason, it does," she smiles at your solution.

Great. Your team has decided to call you while you are down here. You should go up to answer it, but you also need to know about your puzzle and so you can't wait.

"Your phone is working down here." She calls you out on your lie from earlier.

"Switched carriers. Better rollover minutes." You quip back and hit the answer button. "Talk." You say into the phone.

Foreman starts " _MRI was clean, but afterwards, he started bleeding out of his eyes and nose."_

"So there was something wrong before the collapse." Just as you knew there would be.

Taub pipes in " _Unless it's just conjunctive coagulopathy from the trauma."_

That short little prick is getting on your last nerve tonight. "Yeah, yeah, yeah — you don't think he was sick before. We get it! You're wrong." You yell back.

Chase offers up " _Brain infection?"_

" _Sorry I'm late."_ Finally, Thirteen is here. Maybe she can use her brain unlike the rest of the morons on your team.

"Where were you?"

" _Physical therapy. I left my phone in my locker."_

Chase speaks again, drawing the conversation back on topic. " _The infection causes neurological symptoms, goes systemic, and DIC causes the bleed."_

You might have to text him an image of your eyeroll "Good theory. Except for the part that there's no fever. Get an X-ray venogram. See if you can find a reason for your existence. Also look for venous sinus thrombosis."

" _Would have seen it on the MRI."_ Foreman counters.

"Not if you were too busy not looking for it."

Thirteen finally offers something " _We should X-ray for a facial fracture first. This could all be simple trauma."_ And no, she is not going to save you with her brain. She's just going to join in with the idiots.

"Just do what I tell you. Be back in ten minutes." You hang up then and Hanna looks up to you frightened.

"You're leaving?"

"There's a dozen people here who can save you. I'm apparently the only one who can save this other guy." And you put the clamp back on your emotions and head back up the tunnel. Got to get back the hospital and deal with the case and get away from this emotionally overwhelming situation. You've done all you can here. Making friends isn't going to save her life.

"W–wait! Don't go." She pleads again, but you tell yourself to just keep moving.

Once on the surface, it takes a moment to remember where the hell you parked your bike amidst all of this chaos. Passing Cuddy, another awkward look is exchanged.

Oh yeah, that's where you left it. You begin ambling your way back as your brain fights to regain control over the raw emotions that threaten to overwhelm you with increasing waves. Finally reaching your bike, you snap your cane in the clip and toss your aching leg over and sit. Just as you do, Cuddy runs up to you. What the fuck could _she_ possibly want from you right now?

"Hanna's freaking out." she says, a little out of breath, having probably run to catch up with you to deliver the message. "She's having a panic attack. She can't breathe. She's gonna rip out all her IVs."

Someone else needs to handle this. Zipping up your jacket, you play it cold and calm "So calm her down."

"She wants you."

"I'm flattered. Give her oxygen." You say as you start your engine.

Speaking up over the roar, she pleads with you. "They won't let O2 down there. Fear of explosion. You have to go back. She needs you, House."

Fuck. Fucking fucking fuck! Cuddy is right. Hanna does need you. She needs to stay calm and apparently you were not able to prevent her bonding with you. Turning the engine off, you dismount and follow Cuddy back to the entrance. Somehow you have to get through this or she'll die for no good reason. Just a really fucking shitty, but preventable one.

You look around and Cameron is no where around the tunnel. She's most likely still dealing with triage. Cuddy makes her way to another patient and gives you a sympathetic look as you continue on to the tunnel.

Below ground again, you take a blood pressure cuff from a kit and sit down once more with Hanna. Just seeing you visibly calmed her immediately, but you need to try to wrap your mind around her vitals and not her emotions. You have too many of your own right now to start becoming inundated with hers.

"You have to keep your blood pressure down." You tell her as you adjust the cuff with a rip of the velcro.

"You only came back because I freaked out. Right?" she asks.

"Not at all. I just realized how... big and scary the world is and how cozy and safe this little place is." Removing your jacket, you reside to your fate. There is no escape.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I needed you." Dammit. Don't do that. Flashes of Allison run rampant in your mind again. Guilt even biles up from your gut as part of you realises you'd rather Allison lose her limb and just be taken the hell out of here and back to you. Then disgust at yourself builds for ever thinking of doing to Allison what Stacy did to you. It's her fucking leg. She has every right to exhaust every opportunity to keep it.

You imagine her husband again. How he must feel not really knowing. Wondering if the last time he talked to her might really have been the last time. Maybe it wouldn't be a terrible idea for her to talk to him. Maybe hearing his voice will help.

Reaching into your pocket you pull out your phone. Glancing down at the home screen as you unlock it, you see the image of Allison you added as your wallpaper and it steels your resolve.

You hand the phone to her. "Here. Call your husband."

Hanna is breathing hard as she dials her husband's phone number. You pump the cuff up and take her blood pressure as she begins to talk.

"Charlie? I'm here in... They called you? They're helping me. Are you coming?" She's crying and her teeth chatter as she talks. Dammit. It's just making her worse. Fucking empathy, why can't you just turn these damned emotions off? You know what you need to do you look up as she continues "I don't know how this could happen. It's your birthday. I'm so sorry."

"See?" You say to her, motioning for the phone. "This is why I lied about the phone. Your BP is spiking, so you're bleeding faster from your leg wound. I'm gonna have less time to save it. Hang up."

She looks at you, and concedes "Okay. Okay, they're telling me I have to go." She tells him, disconnects and hands your phone back with a whimper.

Admonishing yourself, your thoughts come out of your mouth "That was stupid of me," as you tuck your phone back into your jacket pocket. Ducking under a low beam, you settle back against a wall.

"It was nice," she defends.

"I don't see that as a contradiction." See, this is what people just don't understand. It's shouldn't be about mean or nice. Just results. It's putting the focus on all the wrong things. You are not the heartless bastard people make you out to be. You are just logical. Emotions, connecting with the patient, it clouds impartial judgement. No way to think clearly and not feel guilty for the hard decisions. It's just fucking miserable.

"He was already on his way. He was in Baltimore, and they all saw it on the news. How many people were hurt?" she asks. Trying to make small talk, but about the wrong thing.

"What did I tell you about not raising your blood pressure?" you warn.

Looking around you survey the space once more. It seems secure. Wooden blocks now sure up the beam. The place is a mess though. Crushed cars, rubble everywhere.

And your fucking leg. All this crawling around is taking it's toll and it cramps and screams at you for your abuse of the remaining muscle there. Rubbing does little to alleviate the pain, but somehow the act of it is comforting.

"Can I ask what's wrong with your leg?"

Great, now she wants to make it about you. "Crane fell on it. Small world."

She laughs at your sarcasm. "You could have just said no."

"I'll remember that for my next human contact." Which you hope is no time soon.

"Would you pray with me?"

Oh fuck. Now we're going there. Like let's believe in a guy, up in the sky, that thinks it's fine and dandy to put you in this mess, and ask him to save you from said mess he let you be in in the first place.

"No. I'm not in the habit of encouraging my patients' superstitions."

"How is that a habit? You plan on getting trapped under a building again?" She teases.

"I don't believe in God."

"I don't either. Please?"

She's scared and you don't want her BP to rise again, so you close your eyes and fold your hands over your chest and breath. If she wants to take is as a prayer than fine. Everybody lies.

You eyes open again after she breaks the moment of silence. "I always thought... If I did the right thing, if I treated people right, then good things would happen to me. You think that's how it works?"

"I didn't use to. Then recently I tried… It seemed to be working… Now I don't know." It's the truth. Today has you on edge. Your wall is up and all you let people here see is your hard exterior, but you know the wall is crumbling as surely as this building is around you. A few more knocks to it and you aren't sure what will happen.

You hear someone entering from the tunnel. Looking over, you see Captain McCreaney carrying in an air tank, some tubing and air bags. "Good news."

You move to the other side of Hanna as he sets up and positions the air bag under the beam next to Hanna's leg and gets ready to lift it. You grab a wooden wedge and place it on one side of her leg and under the beam. Relief is flooding over you now as you finally have what you need to save her and her leg. You were right to wait. Damn straight mother-fuckers.

"You think we can be friends when I get outta here?" she asks as you work.

"Yeah. We'll catch a ball game or... group sex show or something."

The captain hands you another wedge of wood and points to a location on the beam on the other side of her right limb. "Put the cribbing in there." You shove the wedge under the beam next to Hanna's leg, and give the wedge on the other side of her leg an extra push.

Turning to her, you give her the bad news. "Okay, now when the beam starts lifting, you're gonna feel pain. It's gonna be like your foot's gone to sleep times a billion. You'll notice that I'm waiting till now to tell you" she smiles slightly and nods.

"All right. We're ready." McCreaney announces and turns on the air compressor. "Lifting."

"I'm feeling the pain already." she cries out as you push the wedges in more with every centimeter the airbag lift affords you.

"That's good," you inform her. "That means the pressure's coming off. Much closer to getting out of here."

The beam groans, rocks and dirt begin to fall as the beam continues to lift. Not good. It's starting to look like the whole place may come down around you. The structure creaks and your heart races as Hanna screams.

Moving to above her head you and the captain try to get her free. "Come on. Pull her out," you call to him and you both pull. Hard.

The creaking of the building is getting louder, things are falling all around you as you pull for all you are worth. "Come on!" you shout.

"It's moving!" she yells.

"Pull!" the captain yells over the noise. Then another scream from Hanna as you are all covered in dirt and rubble.

For a moment everything is black and quiet.

Too black.

Too quiet.

As you come to, covered in dirt and debris you cough and call out. "Hanna… Hanna!"

"What the hell happened?" you call out to the captain who is coughing as well and dusting himself off. He looks around, the only light in the room now coming from his helmet. The ceiling is much lower now forcing you to have to crawl on your belly back toward them.

"I think the adjacent beam snapped during the lift." He calls for help on his radio. "Mayday, mayday, mayday! We had a secondary collapse. We're all right. How are you guys?"

" _Rescue one, copy the mayday. Main tunnel is fine. Rescue's on the way."_ A voice answers.

A large piece of concrete has fallen on top of Hanna's midsection. Jesus. "Lift this up," he orders and you position yourself with him and call out " One, two, three—" lifting with a groan. You manage to lift it off of her, but her breathing is fast and shallow.

"Kit. Gimme the kit," you order.

"All right." He drags over a duffle bag to you.

"No breath sounds on the left side. Tension pneumothorax." you call to him, then tell her "Okay, Hanna. One of your lungs is collapsed. I'm gonna have to reinflate it, okay?"

Ripping a syringe packaging open with your teeth, you perform a needle thoracostomy to reinflate Hanna's lung. She coughs and inhales audibly. You listen. She is still wheezing but her breathing sounds better than before.

The captain then calls to you. "Hey. You better get back up top and make sure you didn't nick an artery." Looking down you see you are bleeding from a deep wound around where you neck and shoulders meet. Putting your hand up to the area, you pull it back and confirm the blood on your fingers.

Damn. He's right. You'll do her no good passed the fuck out.

Taking her hand for a moment, you tell her "I'm gonna have to go."

Behind you, as you crawl back out, you hear him tell her "It's okay. You're all right."

Once back at the surface, you come face to face with Cuddy, who's been called over to attend you. Damnit. Where's Allison? You can't deal with this shit right now. Limping forward, you find a place to sit and let her tend to your wound. She hands you a water and goes to work cleaning and stitching the gash.

"You're lucky this isn't worse," she tells you, as if you are a bad child who wrecked his bicycle on a poorly built ramp.

Finishing the water in a few drinks, you toss the bottle aside and rub your leg.

"You know who's even luckier? You and just about every other human being who wasn't down there." You cell rings mid sentence and you pull it out to answer. Happy for any chance to avoid talking to Cuddy.

"What did the venogram say?" You ask your team.

" _Clean."_ Thirteen answers. " _Now the guy's starting to spike a fever."_

Taub adds " _Subarachnoid bleed."_

" _Meningitis?"_ Foreman suggests.

Chase jumps in " _He didn't say his neck was sore."_

"That's 'cause everything's sore." you remind them "He just took a fifteen-story swan dive into concrete. Do an LP."

Taub speaks again " _We also have to consider other infections."_

Jesus that guy. "So you're suggesting we do an LP?"

" _I guess I am."_ he concedes.

"Genius," you say and disconnect, suddenly missing the act of hanging up on your old phone. This iPhone button thing is not nearly as satisfying while angry.

You see the captain approach as Cuddy finishes up. "Hey, bad news. Because of the collapse, we can't try the airbag again until we get everything off the top. Be five, six hours at least."

This is just fucking great! This day just can't get any fucking better! Where the fuck is Allison?!

"Then we have to amputate." Cuddy pipes in.

Fuck that. "No."

"It's been four hours already." she reminds you, as if you don't fucking know the goddamn time. "It used to be a long shot. Now it's...crazy."

There is a solution. There is always a way. Just think. You know the answer.

"Crush syndrome is basically a buildup of potassium. If we remove potassium—" she cuts you off.

"We're already treating with sodium bicarbonate."

"But not with glucose and Insulin. We have glucose in the kit. There's gotta be a diabetic here somewhere." yeah that's it.

"You wanna dose the insulin here in a non-hospital setting? That is insane! It's not worth it." she yells at you. Back to her true form, as you adversary. Good. You fucking prefer it this way.

Rubbing your leg as the pain shoots through it, you yell up at her. "Really? 'Cause I think I'm the only one here who knows what a leg is worth. And fortunately, you're not the one in charge—he is." You point up to the fire captain. "And he knows that I'd testify against him if Hanna sues for cutting off a leg without exhausting every option." There. Take that shit, you fucking know-it-all, out-of-practice, leg-destroying bitch!

Looking to the captain, she asks "Give us a minute?" He moves away, leaving you with her.

"I know you're angry, but please don't put her life at risk just to get back at me."

Now that is fucking rich! "Really?" Standing up you tower over her. "Wow. So this is all about you now?"

"This is about what you overheard in my office. You're pissed at me, because I moved on—because your girlfriend thinks I'm out to get you, that I have some sort of fucked up love-control thing for you. But I don't. I don't love you. I don't want you. Just move on, House. Go play house with Cameron until you fuck that up too, and it all blows up in her face. I'm happy to just watch it crash and burn from the sidelines. I'm sick of making excuses for you. I'm sick of other people having to tiptoe around you and make their own lives worse while they try to keep you from collapsing. I'm done."

She walks away, and you yell after her, "Fantastic! Just stay away from my patient."

She whips around at that, and marches back toward you. "What are you clinging to, House? You're gonna risk her life just to save her leg? Really worked out well for you, didn't it? I'm going down there, and I'm gonna convince her to let me cut her leg off. If you have any decency left, you'll stay out of it."

Sitting back down you stare forward, her words digging deep once more. Your leg screams at you and you consider, what you have only thought in your darkest hours. Maybe you should have just let them take the damned thing. All it causes you now is pain, and you are fucking sick to death of pain.

"Hey," a soft and welcome voice calls out to you. The owner of said voice is seated beside you a moment later. "Cuddy told me what happened down there, and that she's going to talk to Hanna now and try to convince her to amputate."

You nod, still questioning your argument with Cuddy.

"Bargaining."

Her random comment pulls you out of your revery. "Wh—what?"

"You're at bargaining. With a little bit of anger hanging over."

Now you understand. She's using your own lesson on you now—the five stages of grief and death.

"We can force them to delay, but deep down you know the answer Greg. No amount of great thinking or bargaining is going to move that pile of rubble fast enough and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you have to go through this, but it's time, and somewhere in that head of yours, past all of the emotions that you are normally so careful to avoid, is the voice of a purely logical Dr. House. Listen to that voice, because if you had never crawled down into that hole, his is the voice that you would follow."

Looking over at her, you nod in affirmation and stand. You have to do this. Hanna trusts you, you can't just leave the mess you made with Cuddy. "Thank you," you say.

"I can go down there with you if you need me," she offers. But no. This is your mess to fix, not hers.

"You have plenty to do here. I'll be okay." And with that you put your jacket back on and make your way back underground.

Nearing the bottom of the tunnel you hear two female voices. As you get closer, you make out Hanna's "It doesn't hurt right now. I can wait."

As you enter the void, Hanna sees you, "Dr. House. Tell her." is her plea.

Cuddy looks at you as you crawl beside her, sure you are going to argue again, but instead you look at Hanna and speak softly "Hanna... We have to amputate your leg."

"No." she sobbs, teeth chattering, "You said... that there was time."

Your heart breaks for her. "There was. And it's run out."

"No." she cries again.

"You asked me how I'd hurt my leg. I had a blood clot, and the muscle was dying. And I had all these doctors telling me I should amputate, and I said no, and they did this... very risky operation. I almost died."

"But you saved your leg."

"I wish I hadn't."

For the first time, you admit, even to yourself, that you'd prefer no leg to the pain you are in. A part of you has always wished the betrayal had been complete and not the wretched middle ground that ruined your life. Robbed you of a life with Stacy, of making a family with her. Then left you without hope of ever having that kind of life with anyone for over a decade.

You've only just started to believe you can have those things again.

And if you do get them now, then what? You can only ever half enjoy them. You can't fuck the way you want to fuck; play with a wife and children the way most other men can. Even now that you are willing to have them, your cup will never really be full. It's no life for anyone with a choice.

"They cut out a chunk of muscle about the size of my fist, and they left me with this, mutilated, useless thing. I'm in pain... every day. It changed me. Made me a harder person, a worse person. I was alone for a very long time. You don't want to be like me. You've got a husband who loves you. You have friends. You can start a family. You have a life. And this... This is just a leg."

The two of you look at each other for a long time and your eyes plead with her to give you consent.

"Okay." Comes her answer finally.

Looking to Cuddy, you tell her "I got it," and you pick up the amputation kit.

"I need you to go back up. Tell the captain I need better lighting down here to do this."

A short while later, the crew has provided you with everything you need and have backed into the tunnel to give you and Hanna a little privacy for the hard part. Removing your jacket, and putting on gloves, you take a deep breath then give her more bad news.

"I can't put you out. It could depress your respiration too much. This should take away some of the pain." Picking up the pain killer, you push it into her IV.

"Will it be quick?" she asks.

"I'll use a scalpel to slice through the skin, muscle, and fat. That should go pretty fast. Then I'll switch over to the electric saw when I get to the bone. It's two bones... About as thick as a broomstick. Takes about as long to get through. I'm gonna cut as close to the concrete, as I can, save as much of your limb as possible. Then the orthopedic surgeons back at the hospital will clean you up; have you fitted for a prosthetic. You'll be running circles around me in no time."

She chuckles at this, still shivering.

"How bad will it hurt?"

"Like nothing you've ever felt before."

Hanna holds out her hand, which you take, she grasps both your hands with her other and nods to you as tears stream down her face. You admire how brave she is in this moment. Letting go of her hands, you take a scalpel, a gauze pad, and the electric saw and, duck under a low beam, to move down to where Hanna's leg is trapped. You rip open the gauze pad, wipe her leg with it, and take one last look at Hanna before you take the scalpel and cut deeply and quickly into her flesh.

She groans out loudly and you focus your mind away from the pain you know you are inflicting.

You've made it to the bone. Picking up the saw, you reposition yourself into a more stable position and test it. Once sure everything is good you quickly cut through the bone. It's fucking archaic and heart breaking to mutilate her in this way, but you do what has to be done.

Her screams ring out as you saw off her leg, as if in some sort of horror movie.

You call out to the rescuers standing by when she is clear and ready to be moved. You feel defeated as they move her, watching them load her onto a plastic stretcher and start to move her toward the waiting ambulance.

A helicopter whirs overhead and rains a spotlight down on the scene. The noise is deafening as you crawl out from the tunnel, stand and limp toward the emergency crew and Hanna, but not half as deafening as her screams had been breaking through the silence of the void. You slide your jacket back on as you walk.

As they load Hanna on the gurney, Cuddy motions to a young man, most likely Hanna's husband. He looks down at her and calls "Hanna," with a soft concerned voice.

"Baby. I'm so sorry," she smiles back. He takes her hand and affectionately tells her to "Shut up."

"You always loved my legs," she says to him.

"I don't care about your legs. Baby, I love you. I love _you_."

You are relieved for him. Knowing what it means to love someone so much it hurts. You look around for Allison. She's walking toward the crowd now and you exchange a knowing look.

Hanna's husband leans down to kiss her as the EMTs prepare to load her into the ambulance. "I love you." she tells him.

She is loaded quickly and you climb in after her, briefly looking back to Allison and nodding as she raise a hand to you, as if to say 'see you later' as you close the doors.

You're not even sure why you got on the ambulance. Hanna will be in good hands now. All you've basically done is strand your bike at the site. Fuck it. You're too tired to drive the damned thing right now anyway.

You plop down heavily on the bench by Hanna's feet. You've never been so drained. Hanna's husband, holds her hand and strokes her fingers looking at her with so much relief and love. You know how he feels. You're relieved. They have a long recovery ahead but they have each…

Your phone interrupts your thoughts. "What?"

Foreman's voice comes over the line " _He's fallen into a coma. LP was clean, but…"_

"What are his vitals?" you ask. Tired, but happy to be dealing with something you're good at again. A puzzle. A mostly faceless puzzle to be solved. No emotions involved.

" _Excuse me, officer."_ you hear Taub's voice. Officer?

"What do you mean, officer? How long has there been a cop there?" you grill them.

Thirteen answers, " _I don't know. Ten minutes. He was being questioned when he fell into the coma."_

Wait… that's got to be it.

"Was anything else making him nervous or worried before his other symptoms?"

" _He was claustrophobic right before the bleed and before the fever. We told him that he probably did fall asleep."_ Taub's voice informs you.

"Was his BP spiking?" you know the answer, but you have to ask.

" _But that didn't cause his first symptom."_ Foreman contends.

"Yeah, it did. All the caffeine. We thought the problem was in his toilet — by that, of course, I mean his head. Which distracted us from the fact that it could have been just a clog in his sewer pipe, and by that, of course, I mean his spinal cord. And blah, blah, blah, blah. You get the idea."

" _An arachnoid cyst on his lower spine. That's why we missed it. He's been sitting ten hours a day. Spiked his spinal fluid pressure."_ Thank you, Chase. Finally.

"Run a CT—"

The EMT barks out "BP's 72 over 42," and you hang up the phone to tend to Hanna.

Her husband calls out as she wheezes and starts to lose focus. "Hanna? Hanna?"

"Heart rate 148" the EMT calls out.

"I can't breathe. I can't breathe." Hanna chants as her respiratory continues to increase.

You grab a stethoscope to listen to her lungs. "Breath sounds bilaterally. It's not another pneumothorax." You examine her neck. "Neck vein's flat. There's no tamponade." you tell the EMT.

"Damn it, I waited too long." you mutter under your breath.

"Hanna, you've got a clot in your lung. I'm gonna fix this." you promise. Wishing for all you are worth you didn't just lie to her. Looking to the EMT you order "IV streptokinase."

As you work to get the blood thinners into her, her husband cries out to you "What's happening? What's going on?"

"Her body won't get any oxygen unless we can bust the clot. This is a blood thinner." you inform him, not really caring if he understands, but needing to tell him something as you push the drug into her IV.

"Is she gonna be alright?" his question more of a plea.

"It's gonna make her bleed more. We'll take care of that next."

"It's not busting the clot." you tell the EMT.

"Maybe it's her heart." he suggests and you listen with the stethoscope.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! The world fades out into the background as your mind draws the conclusion. A fat embolism. It's done. She's dead. After everything, she's going to fucking die. Her husband's voice pulls at you.

"What?"

Defeated you tell him, "It's not a clot. It's a fat embolism. From the amputation."

You lock eyes with Hanna. Hers are pleading; yours convey nothing but the helplessness you feel. You want to tell her you are sorry. But there are no words. You wish there was someone to blame, but you did everything right.

Her husband is talking. His words don't register because his words don't matter. Nothing does right now. This is her final moment and she gives it to you. The person she trusted to save her, but couldn't.

Looking down into her eyes you watch her life drain away, a little each second, until the light fades completely and you are left completely and utterly alone.

It barely registers when the doors to the ambulance swing open. One look at the passengers and the emergency room team goes silent. You're not really sure how, but her body is taken, and when you finally snap back to the world around you, you are sitting alone. Foreman is standing by the open doors of the ambulance.

"There's no way to prevent a fat embolism. Even if you'd done this in an OR, you couldn't have saved her." He tries to comfort you as if you are a first year resident and don't know that or something. Can't he just go away and leave you to wallow in your misery?

You need to get out of here. Go home. Get drunk. Sleep this one day off. Something. Anything really, to numb the overwhelming pain you feel all over. Inside. Outside. Every part of you hurts like nothing you've felt in so many many years.

Tossing the stethoscope aside, you climb out of the ambulance, limping heavily past Foreman. Where's your fucking cane, anyways? Fuck it. Just get the hell out of here.

"You can't blame yourself for her death. This wasn't your fault." With the platitudes again. Didn't he learn anything from you in all of these years?

"That's the point!" you scream at him, feeling completely unleashed. "I did everything right. She died anyway. Why the hell do you think that would make me feel any better?"

You can barely walk, stumbling forward you grab onto the counter of the empty nurses station.

He follows you. "You shouldn't be alone right now. You're bleeding."

You muster all the vehem you can one last time. "I'm gonna give you a task as an employee. Get out of my way."

He finally steps aside and lets you go out into the night.

Oh fuck. You have no ride. Allison is going to be stuck dealing with this all night. Fuck, you could use a drink, but the bars are damn near last call.

There is, of course, your stash. Addicts are like squires stashing nuts to get through the winter. You'd hidden a fifth of Jim Beam when Allison freaked out on Wilson. You didn't want to get in a fight with her, but sometimes, a man needs something more than a beer to deal with life.

If ever there was a time.

Getting to the street, you look around and find yourself lucky for the first time tonight. A cab. You raise an arm to hail it and it pulls up a few seconds later. Getting in, you rattle off the address to the apartment and head home.

As soon as you are through the doors, you toss off your filthy jacket and hobble over to the kitchen, dropping your keys on the counter as you go. You look beside the fridge and find the small two step ladder that Allison needs to get into the tall cabinets, pick it up, open the junk drawer, grab a screwdriver and head back into the living room.

Music. You need some fucking mood music.

You set the step stool against the wall for a moment, wonder over toward the stereo and glance down at a stack of CDs. One jumps out at you immediately. The fucking soundtrack to a life thoroughly fucked. Pink Floyd's _The Wall._

"That'll do," you murmur to yourself as you toss both CDs it in the player so they'll play back to back and hit play.

Now. Back to the task at hand. You grab the stepping stool and open it, placing it under the air return, which is just out of your reach, on the wall above you. Precariously you step up, nearly falling over twice before steadying yourself enough to work.

Reaching up, you unscrew the vent cover, pull it off and toss it to the foor. Glancing in, you see your prize and something else.

Now. Maybe...

You take the fifth of whiskey and twist off the lid and take a big gulp as you decide what you should do. Having seen the yellow pill bottles, it is impossible to excise the thought from your mind. The guitar riff in the background pushes you on and you take out the pills and slowly step yourself back down with a ticket to escape from this wretched and overwhelming pain in each hand.

Sitting on the couch half way through _Thin Ice_ you continue to fight your resolve, and take another drink, then slam the liquor bottle on the coffee table. Looking down you, you read your name on the prescription. A moment later you open the bottle and drop two white pills in your hand and stare at them for long enough for the sound of helicopters from _The Happiest Days Of Our Lives_ to sound out from the speakers.

You flash back the the site. Getting into the ambulance. Hanna.

Fuck it.

You need to stop feeling for a while. There is just too much fucking feeling.

With that, you pop the two vicodin into your mouth and swallow. Reaching forward you grab the Jim Beam by the neck of the bottle and chase the pills with the burn of sweet Kentucky bourbon and wait for the numbness to come.

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 _Jesus! Who put the floor there?_

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 _Cameron? Wha….?_


	30. Felicidade

**Chapter 30: Felicidade**

 _Ladies… Careful… There's plenty of Greg to go arou… Hey what are you…_

* * *

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"Morning sleeping beauty. Or afternoon rather, but who's counting." A familiar female voice teases you as you wake.

The bedroom slowly comes into focus as you open your eyes. There's an odd sensation in your arm and your dick. Holding your right arm up so you can see it, reveals an IV and you are fairly certain the odd feeling in your penis is the tube of a catheter. You also find that you are naked under the thin sheet that covers you.

"What are you doing here and how'd I end up in bed, naked, with an IV and cath? Where is Allison?"

Rebbeca, gets up from the beside chair and sits by you on the bed, checking you over as she talks, still clad in her work scrubs. "I slipped her a sedative and put her to bed on the couch because she refused to sleep on her own. You were stable, and weren't going anywhere, but she didn't want to listen to reason."

Once satisfied you are fine, she looks you in the eye and continues. "Allison called me sometime after three A.M., told me you damn near O.D.'d. I grabbed the equipment, drove over, helped her strip you, wash you, get you into bed, got you on an IV and figured you'd maintain your sexy image better if you didn't piss the bed."

"You just wanted to see if Allison was exaggerating about Little Greg." You joke. Glad she thought of everything, by rights you should be lying in a pool of piss and vomit this morning wishing you had just finally gone past the edge. As it is, you kind of feel okay; still sort of numb, but you'll take it to the overwhelming onslaught of emotion you had to deal with yesterday.

"Yeah. I am always telling my girlfriends to bring their men over for a catheter so I can ram things up their packages. It's kinky, but ya know, we all have our fetishes." She winks and continues to fill in the blanks from the part of the night you can't remember.

"So after I slipped her a mickey and tucked her in, I re-stitched your cut, because it looked like shit, yeah yeah, don't tell me nurses aren't supposed to do that part, you can sue me later, and I dozed off in the floor for a few hours. Then I woke up about two hours ago, fixed some coffee, and then sat around in here waiting for one of you to wake up. And I can take that cath out now, by the way. You look like you are in shape to take a piss on your own now."

"Just can't get enough, can ya?"

"You know it. I'm getting wet just thinking about it."

"Actually, I can manage on my own. No need for you and Allison to get into a cat fight. Despite the rumors, Little Greg doesn't like the ladies fighting over him."

"Well, then, I'll leave it to you. Before you get up though, you need to take these and I'll remove the IV."

She hands you a couple of ibuprofen, a tylenol and your depression medication in a small glass. Then hands you an orange gatorade. "You should drink all of that too." Doing as you are told, you toss the pills back and take a big drink. "Good boy. Now let me see your arm."

A few moments later she has the IV removed and leaves you to get up and make your way to the bathroom in private to remove the catheter and then to get dressed. Sitting up, the room starts to spin a little, so you slow down and take your time.

Where's your cane… looking around, it hits you. Hanna. You left it at the tunnel when they pulled her out. That rock finds it's way back to the pit of your stomach. But at least it feels a little less enormous in the light of day.

Wonder what time it is? By the light bleeding through the blinds and the comment by Rebecca, it's most likely you are beyond late for work and by no means do you plan to do anything about that.

Ten minutes later, you've managed to make yourself presentable donning your striped pajama pants and a soft threadbare and faded-black gold skull tee. You head to the kitchen and hear the sounds of a fresh pot of coffee starting to brew and a second later the smell invades your nostrils as well.

God, you are starving too, having not eaten since lunch yesterday. And damn if that doesn't feel like a week ago, rather than a day.

As you enter the room, you look over toward the couch. Beyond it, you see the evidence from your fucked up night has been removed. Most likely they've flushed your vicodin and booze by now.

Damn it. You were stupid.

Allison. Fuck. She found you. A flash comes back. She looked so frightened.

The rock in your gut grows again. Cuddy is right. You are a fuck-up and you're dragging Allison down with you.

"Stop that." Rebecca commands you.

You look at her and tilt your head. What does she mean?

"Stop thinking she's better off without you or whatever shit is spinning around up there. Yes, you fucked up. But considering the awful fucking day you had, I think most people would have come home and gotten completely smashed. _You_ just have to work harder than most _today_ , and tomorrow and the next day to make sure you don't repeat the same fuck up. And pushing away the person who loves you the most and who wants nothing more than to help you through this, is a bad fucking way to start."

"She would be better off." You say, softly, but consider Rebecca's words.

"No. She wouldn't. Believe me. I've seen the before and after. As fucked up as you are, she is better with you. It works that way sometimes. Don't fight it. Just accept that you are lucky as hell to have each other and stop fucking it up. Stay on your meds and maybe consider tee-totaling it on the alcohol. I don't think you do moderation well."

"How did you know I stopped taking them?" You ask, wondering if Allison talked to her about your quitting the depression treatment.

"I've been there, done that, so I know the signs. And Allison talked to me about it. When you started showing the withdrawal signs, she started counting your pills. She wanted you to talk to her about it. She was afraid if she brought it up, you would think she was trying to control you and that it would backfire. She was considering calling Nolan."

You nod. Rebecca doesn't seem depressed to you. Well, you idiot, that is probably because she is treating it.

"Thanks," you tell her. You don't normally take this sort of advice well, but today, you have no more fight left. As high as you were on emotion yesterday you are left empty today. As if you poured it all out and have only the slightest drop left.

"The two of you need to talk, Greg. She's blaming herself for not talking to you. This isn't going to work if you don't open up completely. You don't have to show yourself to the world, but if you want a life with Allison, you have to let her in all of the way, otherwise it can't ever be an 'us.' I'm not saying you have to confess every dark secret you have, or not lie if she ever gets a little fat," she winks, "but you need to be honest with her about how you feel, and about the addiction, and the depression. She can help you, but you have to let her."

"I know. I just… I just suck at this part."

* * *

"Hey…" Sitting on the edge of the couch, you nudge Allison gently. "Wake up, Rebecca made us breakfast." She stirs, and looks up at you with groggy eyes. Slowing piecing things together as she comes out of her deep slumber.

"Hey…" She answers back, and yawns. "I'm sorry. I guess I feel asleep. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks to you," you reach up and tuck the hair falling from her slept-in pony-tail behind her ear. "Your friend slipped you a sedative, which is good, because you needed to sleep."

She sits up and turns to give you room to sit fully on the couch beside her. "I need to shower." She says looking down at herself, dirty and disheveled from her work the day before.

"Yes, you do," you tell her. "Be quick, the warming drawer will dry out the eggs if they are in there too long."

Less than fifteen minutes later she comes out of the back, showered and changed into jeans and a faded green tee, her wet hair up in a towel, and takes a seat at the bar. Rebecca takes her food from the warming drawer and puts it in front of her.

"Thank you so much," she says to her friend. "Really, for everything. You didn't need to stay, you should get back to your family and get some rest."

"Don't mention it. You'd do the same for me. But you're right, I do need to get home." She admits and starts to gather the few personal things she came with. "Call me later." she says to Allison with a hug, and lets herself out.

Finally you are alone with Allison. Both of you need to work through this, but after she eats.

* * *

Lying in bed on your sides, you face one another, hands intertwining in the middle. Neither of you really knows how to start, so you just enjoy not being alone, together.

Sometime later you wake, not realizing you had dozed off. Allison is sleeping across from you, still holding your hand. It occurs to you in this moment that this is exactly where you want to be for the rest of your life. Lying here with the woman you love, who loves you.

You were so lost, so alone. Life was this bitter, tragic joke up until a month ago.

She changed everything.

Yesterday was completely awful, and it did nearly break you, but she's still here. Saving you. Loving you. You don't have to be alone anymore. Before, you weren't sure who you were trying to be a better man for, but today, in this moment, it is crystal clear. You want to be that better man for her. She's why you are here. She can give your life some sort of meaning beyond a number of lives saved.

You don't have to be afraid of falling anymore. Because she will be here to catch you before you break into a million peices.

Not only that, you want to be there for her. If you can be that person, for Hanna, a total stranger, you can be there for Allison. If you can allow yourself to be hurt for a stranger, shouldn't it be a risk you are willing take for the person you love more than anything? The person who loves you more than anything?

Before, you'd still be in the floor. You'd eventually wake up and chase the pain away again with two more pills and, eventually, convince yourself to get up and go on with your life of pain and misery. Like some sort of cross you're destined to bare.

Maybe Wilson would have found you. And like he has done so many times before, rolled you over to keep you from choking, then leave you to rot on your own for a while. He's long since over yourself destructive behavior. He never once picked you up, cleaned you, and put you to bed much less got you on an IV to flush the toxins, hydrate you and in general prevent a massive and awful pain filled day after.

Sure, once you were back up again, he might show up with platitudes and tell you to get help. You'd listen, but probably do nothing. Maybe because on some level you don't want Wilson to have to always be the one who saves you, you would push him away.

But this. This pure love and understanding, you've only ever gotten that from your mother. Your father stood in the way of that half the time making the impact of it less meaningful.

This. This is what it means to be truly loved and now that you have it, it occurs to you you've never really had it before now.

"How do you do it?" you ask her as her eyes slowly open and focus on yours.

"Do what?" she asks, still blinking away the sleep.

"Open yourself up time and again, knowing that you will get hurt and diving in where angels fear to tread? I was forced to do it kicking and screaming and when I did, everything fell apart, and it was awful. I didn't want to have to feel for her. I didn't want to see your face in hers. I didn't want to see mine in hers or her husband's. Then I had to watch her die, knowing I couldn't save her. Having to be there for her because she trusted me to save her.

"You married a dying man. You befriend dying patients, sit with people who have no one else and hold their hand as they die. And you don't just go through the motions. You feel for them. You let yourself love them. I used to think it make you weak, now I know that I was wrong. You are so incredibly strong. How do you not just crash and burn?"

"Who says I don't?" she answers you. Looking into your eyes for a moment she continues.

"When Brian died, I got through the funeral and the burial and then I spent a week finishing off his remaining pain meds. I didn't leave the house or shower. I barely ate.

"On your team, I drank myself to sleep most every time we lost one of our patients. I don't know. I just think that it should matter when someone dies. That someone should feel like shit for them."

You still struggle to wrap your mind around it, why anyone would sign up for that kind of pain, but she wouldn't be your Allison if she didn't.

The guilt is starting to worm its way in again. The irony of her being perfect for you is that you have and will continue to do things that hurt her. Your self-destructive behavior is something you may never completely win out over, even when you try your hardest; it's woven in too tightly and it may take a lifetime of work to stay healthy and have a better life with her.

"I'm sorry," you tell her.

"For what?" she asks.

"For last night. For this whole last week. For not talking to you about my medication. It was a stupid thing to do, I was doing great… then… I just thought I could manage on my own again without feeling like I had to dull the world to do it. Maybe if I hadn't been so stupid, you wouldn't have had to deal with the fallout."

"I think you should call Nolan. He needs to know. He may want to adjust things. Maybe you can even come off them eventually, but cold turkey is… it's just…"

"Stupid. You can say it. I know it was."

"Yeah." She admits and strokes your thumb with hers. "But last night, don't apologize for that. That was my fault. I should have come back with you. I could see you were on the edge. I just didn't expect Hanna to die I guess. I was worried about you, but I didn't think about you having a stash. I should have. It's textbook and I should have thought to check. Especially after cleaning out your old place. When Foreman told me she died, and that you were… Then I turned on my phone, and had a message from my landlord about a noise complaint and I knew I'd fucked up.

"I should have been there for you, but I wasn't, so you were left to cope in the only other way you know how."

You'll have none of this line of thought, even though it is a strange comfort that she feels a responsibility for you. She did so much for you, just by being there for you at your lowest. The way she handled Cuddy, the way she handled everything with you and Hanna. Then rushed home and prevented you from really fucking everything up. She has every right to be mad at you, to blame you, but instead she understands you. It's not like you really want to destroy everything, there are just moments you can't fight the pain anymore and you give in.

"You shouldn't have to babysit me, Allison. I'm a grown man. Last night wasn't your fault. There's every chance I would have pushed you away, found some other way to get hammered. Can't you see you saved me? I'd still be wallowing in my self pity without you. I'd be half way through a bottle of vicodin or worse today. Instead, I'm lying comfortably in bed with my beautiful girlfriend, feeling like I am the luckiest man on the planet. Instead of feeling like one bad night has to destroy everything I've worked for this last year, I feel renewed. I don't want to go back on vicodin today because I know now that all I really want is you."

She smiles at you, and it feels perfect.

"I love you," you finish, almost like a prayer.

She scoots forward and kisses you. "I love you, too. I'm so happy you are okay. You really scared me."

Kissing her back you tell her, "I know. I'm sorry. I just needed to not feel anything for a little while. I didn't even plan on taking the vicodin. I just wanted to drink and pass out. But then, when I saw the bottles… Everything hurt… I just couldn't face it any longer. I don't even remember much after the first few drinks. I was so tired and dehydrated it didn't take much to get smashed and then I'm sure smashed me thought it was a great idea to keep going."

"Yeah you were pretty bad off when I came home."

"Damnit. I'm really sorry. You had a shit day yesterday too, and I just made it shittier and longer."

She raises her hand to your face and places a finger on your lips to quiet you.

"I'm fine Greg. You're fine. Everything is going to be fine. Yes, yesterday was a shit day. But we're stuck having those. We don't always get to have the luxury of personal detachment. And we are going to lose people. That's the job. You taught me that, so I know you know it. But you don't have to do this alone anymore. Neither of us does."

"Yesterday, in Cuddy's office, you said a lot of things… Did you really mean all of that?"

"Yeah. Every word."

"I want those things, Allison. I let the pain drive out every good thing inside me for so long. I wanted a family, I wanted a life outside of work. I wasn't sure I'd be any good at it. I still have no clue. Stacy was right when she told me she was always second to the puzzles. I don't know if that part of me can even change. But with you, I don't know, I feel like you're a part of my work as much as you are a part of my home. So things don't seem out of balance with you. Maybe, that's what I needed to make it all work.

"All I know is that when I am with you, I really want all of it. I think about marrying you. I wonder what our kids will look like. It scares the hell out of me, but it also feels like the most right thing I've ever done. I don't think anyone else has ever made me feel this okay about being myself. Most just leave me to wallow in my misery. Maybe I deserve it, maybe I push them away when they try to help too often, but you are the only one who is just too stubborn to give up and somehow manages not get dragged down with me.

"I don't do compliments well, or often, but I was so proud of you yesterday. My head was spinning and there you were this picture of control. My meek little teddy-bear made by Grandma, all grown up, kicking ass and taking names. I know that in the ER you have to make those kinds of tough calls, but seeing it first hand really made me proud to think I had a hand in it. You were right to leave my team. You did learn all you could from me and you've gone from being a good doctor to a great one by making your own path."

She's crying now. Damn women and their tears. You reach your hand to her cheek and wipe them with your thumb.

"Thank you, Greg. That means more to me than you can ever know." She tells you, but that's wrong. You do know. It's the only thing you had ever really wanted to hear from your father. 'I'm proud of you.' Those simple four words would have make a world of difference. You don't want to be like him, so you decide to start here.

You kiss her then; a slow kiss. One that tells her how much you love her. "Marry me?"

The words slip from your lips without real thought. For a split second you want to retract, but then a calmness comes over you. Allison's eyes get larger as your words sink in. It does nothing to help the crying.

"Come on, Allison, you know you want to get started on our plan for world domination sooner than later. It'll be fun." You wink at her.

She's still speechless. You are pretty sure you have the answer, given the look in her eyes. But you need to hear the words, so you pull out all the stops.

Pulling her even tighter into your embrace to you you whisper in her ear, "Vamos lá, amor. Diga sim então nós podemos ir pra parte onde celebramos." _Come on my love, say yes so we can get to the part where we celebrate._

You feel her breath on your ear then she softly whispers, "Claro que eu me caso com você. Eu te amo. Então, me conte sobre essa celebração que você tem em mente." _Of course I'll marry you. I love you. So, tell me about this celebration you had in mind._

Your head pulls back and you give her a shocked look. What the hell? "You lied."

"I didn't answer the question. There's a difference," she smirks.

"You sneaky… that's it, I'll teach you." You laugh and swing yourself on top of her and start tickling her relentlessly. She squirms and kicks under you, laughing loudly and trying in vain to escape. After a few dangerously close calls with her knee and your balls, you cease your attack and kiss her, and as you do it really sinks in.

You just got engaged. She said yes!

Clothes goes flying from the bed at a record rate and you are on top of her again, the tip of your cock teasing her entrance as you kiss her. It is at this moment that your phone rings.

"Dammit," you curse, still poised at her entrance, you glance over toward the end table where you can see the call is from Wilson. Good, not the hospital or your team.

"Ahhh… God, you're so tight… baby."

Sinking into her slowly inch by inch, as you watch her head thrown back, has to be heaven. When you are to the hilt, she looks up into your eyes and you start a slow and exquisite pace.

Her legs travel up yours, slowly making their way up and around your ass. Her calves press against your butt cheeks, encouraging your slow, deep penetration. She's never felt more yours than this moment, giving herself to you, promising the future to you, promising this intimacy to only you from this moment forward. In this moment, you feel as if she has already become your wife, and the paperwork and title are mere red tape to be dealt with.

The most amazing and open and honest person you have ever known wants to spend the rest of your life with you.

No tricks.

No con.

All you had to do is ask for it and she gave it to you.

 _Ring…. Ring… Ring….._

"Fuck!" you hiss, as you push in all the way and pause, looking again at the phone to see the ID of the caller.

Wilson. Again. Got to put an end to his coitus interruptus! Grabbing the phone you answer "Hello, you have reached the voicemail of Gregory House. Greg can't make it to the phone right now because he is balls deep, _**in his fiancé**_ **,** but if you'd like to leave a message, you can do so after the beep." You pause for a second, and hear only shocked silence on the other line.

"Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep," you hang up and toss the phone on the edge of the bed.

"Now, where were we?" you begin your thrusts again, less seriously, having the mood broken by Wilson, of course. He always does have shit timing. Hopefully, this time, he takes the hint.

"I can't believe that is how you told your best friend." she laughs.

"Want me to dial up Rebecca, next?" you tease, grabbing her legs under the knees and pushing her open to thrust even deeper. "I bet she'd love to listen in on it. Maybe she and her husband can use it as inspiration. Then she can slip the kids a sedative and get her groove on."

Picking up the pace, you demonstrate just such a groove and a scream is your reward for finding her g-spot on the last upstroke. "There it is. Now, I'm going to fuck that spot until you spray come all over your fiancé."

You continue to pound into her at a steady pace as you make good on your promise. Her tight, wet, little pussy starts milking you moments later as she grabs the sheets and screams your name. Her climax is long and massages you decadently, until you feel the pressure build and your release comes in short waves as you spill into her.

Laying intertwined, you roll over and pull her on top of you, so you can hold her as closely as you both need, without crushing her. As your breath slows, your heart pounds with a happiness it has never felt before, and at least, right now, in this one moment, your life feels like a life.

Your stomach breaks the silence, announcing with a growl that, as good as this is, you both need to go eat. "I'm starving again. Wanna go get food? Then, I need a new cane and you need a ring. Then we can come back here and have the official celebration."

"Oh, so that wasn't official?" she raises up and looks at you with one eyebrow raised.

"Nope. That was the undress rehearsal. Can't call it real so long as your left fourth proximal digit is naked."

"I'll race you to the shower," she teases as she sits up to straddle you, smiling.

Putting on your most serious face you scold her. "Hey! It's not nice to tease the cripple."

"Unless the cripple likes to be teased," she finishes with a wink and a kiss, then climbs out of bed and sways her ass to the shower. Sitting up, you grab a tissue to do a little drip prevention clean up, when you hear her call out.

"Oh, shit!"

"Are you okay? What happened." Standing, you amble, still no cane, to the bathroom where she looks up to you, then you look down at what she is holding in her hand. "Oh."

"Yeah." She worries her lip a little.

"Looks like we're buying a pack of condoms now too."

She nods a yes, and pushes two pills from her birth control packet, yesterday's and today's, and takes both. Well, it's a small chance, but looks like things could get even more interesting yet. But you're surprisingly okay with that.

Walking past her, you slowly step into the shower then look back to her. "Guess I win. Now get that stunning ass in here, so we can celebrate some more."

* * *

 _ **Final Author's Notes:**_

 _FF . net has been having issues with the review system. I've gotten most of the latest by email, but there is at least one missing if the number of reviews showing in the summary is correct, so if I don't write you back right away, don't hate me because it probably isn't my fault, but please don't let the bug in the system keep you from sending a note. :)_

 _So we have come to the end of my sixth season remix. Thank you so much for reading, reviewing and sticking with me through the last 6+ months. It's by far the most I've written ever and was really a lot of fun and a tremendous learning experience._

 _Ch. 29, was of course, my AU version of 6.22 "Help Me." If you've seen that episode, you know I robbed it blind of its dialog. However, I hope everyone enjoyed the places I bent it to my will and I also hope that you enjoyed my take on what was spinning around in House's head. It is always fun for me to try and decide what parts of the universe would stay the same and what parts would change, had Cameron left Chase at the altar and House come around to the idea of her being the best thing for him. But it also means some chapters I borrow a ton from the canon story, because I think that the case would take on a slightly different meaning to House in this reality, while on the surface levels, it would remain very much the same._

 _As you know, I did bleed over a day into season 7 for chapter 30, and that part of the story is all mine. I am sure no one wanted me to leave it hanging like on the real show. I do hope to have time to spin up a couple of sequels, but I have a story on the back burner that is burning a hole in my brain right now, and I need to go take care of it. :) - It is more Hameron, but a totally different AU, so stay tuned for that in the next couple of weeks/months._

 _I did my best to leave this story with a final cadence that we all can live with and be happy going forward, but still leaving plenty of little side stories open for later._

 _If it seems like House did too much of a 180, from 29 to 30, sorry. I did that purposely because a lot of what someone with depression deals with are big mood swings up and down. This is even reflected in his morning after "Help Me" in canon, with the ship that will not be mentioned. If he seems a little OOC, it's because he is having one of those rare days that he wants to be an adult and fix himself. We see flashes of that guy all through the series, and especially in his plea to Hanna to let him amputate. I was channeling that House and I hope it came through without you needing to read this note, but if not, I tried and now you know what I was going for._

 _One of the most interesting things about House is his constant struggle. I wanted to get in his head and tackle some of that and explore all of the inner dialog that goes along with those kinds of ups and downs. That is one big reason I did the story in second person, and I hope that came through._

 _I felt like at some point I got a much better handle on writing in this voice as well, which was the mechanical thing I was hoping to get out of this whole exercise, but I'd be interested in any feedback you have on this technical aspect as well._

 _I don't think I ever had an idea of this being something as long as Catch-22, but it is, and it was a blast the whole way. So much of that had to do with how well it was received by the readers. So thank you for the support!_

 _I would be remiss to leave you without a huge nod to my beta and new found friend atavares. She volunteered with no clue what this would become. I think she just wanted to work on her English and get a little Hameron out of the effort. But turns out we had a lot in common and ended up just spending hours hanging and chatting online during work and late at night. Her friendship is really the coolest thing I got out of this._

 _In closing, please drop me a note and let me know how you liked the ending. And, I'd also like to hear you opinions on something else. If, and I hope I do, get to write a season 7 alternate take for this AU, would you like me to continue in second person—all from House's POV, switch to more of a normal 3rd person omniscient POV, or maybe mix it up. I've seen some nice stories that alternate POV and voice chapter by chapter._

 _I am open to suggestions. :) Second person has a cool flavor for House in particular, but boy oh boy it ties one's hands when things need to happen with other charters and as an author you need to figure out how to disseminate all the shit that is floating around in your brain. Then again, that does force one to edit._

 _Anyway, thanks for the ride and feel free to let me know if you have a take! Feel free to favorite me as an author so you don't miss out on my next Hameron adventure._


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